Knights of the Old Republic: Revan's Mark
by Gipper 40
Summary: A sequel to "Knights of the Old Republic: The Prodigal Knight". Three years later, Revan must use the Force and what little resources he has to save the ailing Republic. This story is in complete compliance with canon as dictated by Lucas Arts canon.
1. Chapter 1: Disruption

**Star Wars

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**Knights of the Old Republic**

**Revan's Mark

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**By**

**Gipper 40 & Sarge42

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**Part I**

**Reemergence

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**Chapter 1**

**Disruption

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_A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…_

_Three years have passed since the fall of the Kraxis Rebellion and the death of Lena Verado. The slowly deteriorating Galactic Republic has been unable to stop the rise of the Sith Triumvirate and its Great Purge, leaving the Jedi Order on the brink of total annihilation._

_As the remaining Jedi fight for their lives against a threat they cannot see, the slowly rebuilding Kraxis Rebellion has been forced to remain dead and silent beneath the scouring eyes of the True Sith in the freezing ice caverns of Nagai._

_In a daring effort to further bring life back to the dying rebellion a series of small operations has been launched to cripple the Sith as they come ever so closer to attaining total control over the galaxy. The following is the concluding story of Revan.

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"_Welcome back…"_ – Jace Myrther

Deep in the Unknown Regions and far to the south of the Psytosis Nebula, more than a few light years away from the Galactic Republic, a group of several planets floated idly in their own isolated star systems. Closer to what could be seen as the middle of this region lay the planet Lazoris. It was a sentient world, consisting of enough land, water, and greenhouse gas to sustain all organisms for millions of years. For the most part, it was a peaceful and rather uneventful planet. To any stranger, this world was beautiful. It was untouched by dense colonization and heavy industry, but this was not to say that intelligent sentient life did not inhabit this world.

Roaming and settling in small militarily strategic areas throughout the planet lay several satellites, bases, and communications arrays of an incredibly powerful entity. This entity was the power that lay in the Unknown Regions, and it had cast its powerful but phantom hand outward, enslaving all that it could within, but careful not to intrude upon the known and densely civilized galaxy. Their influence was widespread, and with their great power, they hunted and suppressed all that may oppose them. Lazoris however, was only used as a beacon in that specific region of the galaxy.

They were as they claimed themselves to be, the Sith – the True Sith. These horrendous and fierce looking organisms held the deepest secrets and most ancient knowledge of the dark side of the Force. They were the masters, and with their rule, came an iron fist that struck fear into the hearts and minds of all other life forms in their official territory. The planets on the other end of the Psytosis Nebula could not have been compressed into a system because they were too far apart. Also, what lay on these worlds were overall of absolutely no value to the True Sith, so they left it alone. There were no mass colonies of people on these planets. Anyone who lived there lived in isolation and tranquil solitude. The True Sith only used Lazoris to monitor space activity in that part of the Unknown Regions, just in case something was attempting to creep up behind them. The location of Lazoris made it likely that anyone attempting to venture into the Unknown Regions after passing Rakata Prime would stop there first, and the True Sith would immediately be alerted to their presence.

The center of communications lay at the north pole of the planet. A large island, elevated about a hundred meters above sea level was where it was stationed. The island was surrounded by a wide fast-flowing river that forked around the island and then joined again. This way, the facility was completely isolated.

It was a large building that connected with all the others on that remote island. As a central hub, it was responsible for receiving encrypted data and transmitting it back to all the other facilities. It also served as the command center for the True Sith on the planet. The True Sith were stationed so far away from the core worlds that only the central outpost was able to send and receive orders and information from them. It was the only way of communicating with the core worlds. However, aside from its main purpose, this building was a fortress. It was surrounded by a pentagon of guard towers, all looking over the outskirts of the island and down at the river. Three men were placed on each tower, all of them working six hours shifts each day.

Otherwise, those manning and operating the areas were completely self sufficient. There were fifty outposts scattered across the planet in total. Each outpost had a battalion of soldiers and one Sith warrior in high command. It was considered a reward for good service to be stationed on Lazoris, for there was little to do but relax, train, and occasionally explore the nature and wildlife.

At the point of high command in the command center was Cavix Sharkraw, the single apprentice to Rixxon Zazz, the Grand Sire of the Sith. Like Zazz, Sharkraw had separate features from the rest of the True Sith, and it was implied that these features had slowly developed over time. He was slightly taller, a full seven feet tall. His eyes were a blackened yellow basilisk color and his face was dark orange. He bore six fingers on both hands, three toes on both feet, and long sharp nails. Thick veins bulged out of his face, chest, and limbs, echoing a frighteningly noisy pulse. Though he was taller than the rest, his weight was distributed proportionally. His balance was perfect, as was his posture, and though he was leagues away from his master in terms of aptitude with the dark side of the Force, no one else besides Commander Rexx and the high ranking military leaders could possibly possess the capability to challenge him. He had no reservations about bragging and showing off his abilities, and he was insistent on making everyone aware of the fact that _he_ was the single and irreplaceable understudy to the Grand Sire.

Dawn took over the darkness above the planet as the sun began to rise and shine brightly down on the northern hemisphere, with no cloud to block the light. It was just another day for the men stationed in the central command, but the apprentice sat on his high chair, gazing up at the sky, pondering quietly to himself, as if expecting something to ruin the beautiful new day.

From thousands of kilometers above the facility, far above the plain sight of anyone, a single-man air pod fell from the sky, dropping towards the planet at the speed of a Basilisk War Droid. Despite the slight burning at the bottom, it remained stable as it neared the facility and activated the parachute. The pod headed straight for the building, looking as if it held a lone infiltrator.

Three separate radars picked up the pod falling at a slightly slower speed and beeped loudly, alerting everyone of the intrusion. The automated guns, stationed at the top fired away, immediately hitting the parachute and causing the pod to fall at a faster rate and smash against the roof. Despite the heavy impact, the pod remained intact, as if built for such a crash landing. It made a dent in the roof, but it did not penetrate.

Four human soldiers grappled their way up to the rooftop and faced the door of the pod, their itchy fingers on the triggers of their blaster rifles. As they pointed at where they expected the head of the person would be, the airlock around the door began to depressurize and the door fell forward. The four men in plain sight were not in falling range of the door, but they immediately began firing at the inside of the pod, their lasers and gun smoke clouding their vision of what or who was actually inside the pod. They emptied two full clips on the pod, but it only filled the air with more smoke. The commanding officer held his hand up, signaling a cease fire.

When the smoke finally cleared, all four men experienced a shiver of fear in their spines, for the intruder inside the pod was a skeleton. It was a fully built human skeleton that looked like it had recently been burned alive, but the fire was put out just in time to prevent the demolishing of the bone structure. From the looks of it, the ammunition the men had emptied onto it had done absolutely nothing. The men gave each other a perplexed and fearful glance.

Meanwhile, below the facility, at the base of the island, a patrolling guard was walking through a blind spot between two of the guard towers outside. A small metal star blade cut through the air and landed in his throat. As the guard fell, a shadowy figure jumped over him and leapt high, ascending several stories of the facility and gripping the wall right underneath the window. As the stealthy individual flipped through the window, the star blade embedded in the fallen guard's neck was Force pulled.

On that same floor, the bunks and sleeper rooms housed the men. At the very end of the hall was a public bunk room with one soldier who was sleeping. His alarm suddenly began to buzz in excitement. With his eyes still closed, he leaned to his left and reached his hand out, finding the reset button. Rubbing his eyes, the soldier opened them and then gasped in a fright, seeing a young scary looking man with a hooded face and moderately dark clothing standing before him.

"Good morning," said the man. As he finished, he dealt a heavy backhand slap to the man's face and then with both hands, smashed two hammer fists downward, pulverizing the man's upper rib cage. The force of this strike bent and pushed the upper four ribs inward, pressing against his lungs, suffocating him. The soldier gagged and crocked as the man jumped up towards the ceiling, into the ventilation shaft. "And good night."

He quickly crawled through the ventilation ducts until coming to the elevator shaft. The elevator was slowly coming up and past him, docking on the floor right above him. The man jumped up and grabbed the bottom of the elevator, placing both his hands in a firm grip while he dangled below it. The elevator slowly descended, and with the Force, the man could see that there was one military officer inside the elevator and he was heading to the basement. As the elevator neared the bottom, the man swung his feet and vaulted off, landing feet first into the ventilation duct right above that floor. Crawling through the duct, he came across a room with two soldiers in it. They had just finished changing and one of them was washing his hands.

"Yeah I know," said one of them. "Shark's going to go insane when he finds out about the skeleton…if he hasn't found out already."

"I've never seen him flip out before," said the other.

"I did," said the soldier but he was given a look of disbelief. "It wasn't pretty. He grabbed the guy and threw him head-first out the window and into the water."

"Why not just Force lightning that guy in front of everyone? That would have made a better impression."

"Well Shark's just unpredictable like that. He threw the guy out the window for questioning his orders in front of the whole room. And then he went: _Do you know who I am! I am the Grand Sire's one and only apprentice. My will is second only to his, and if anyone should think otherwise, I'll be happy to teach you the same lesson as I did him. Is that understood!_"

"Nice impression," said the other. "You remembered the words?"

"You don't forget something like that. I mean, the guy probably deserved it and all, but it was crazy, because you wouldn't have seen it coming."

"Wow, what an ass."

"Careful," said the soldier mockingly. "One word from me, and Shark might just come down here himself and gouge your eyes out in front of everyone."

"Yeah yeah, I know." They laughed as they exited the room. The man dropped down into the room as the door closed.

Peering out the window, he noticed the same officer walking down the hallway. He opened the other door slightly ajar and as the officer blindly walked by, he stuck his hands out and grabbed him. The man pulled the officer in and twisted his neck twice before he could make a sound and dragged him into the room, stuffing him into an empty locker, but not before taking his security clearance card.

As he turned the corner, he sensed a security camera. He unclipped and then re-clipped the wire, cutting off the camera's feed for a split second with the Force, as he darted past it with ease. At the end of the hallway, was a locked door with a level five clearance requirement. Scanning the card, the door did not budge.

"_Hmm?_" said the man to himself as he scanned the card again but the door beeped red and did not open. He looked at the scanner and then at the card to see if he was doing it right, but he scanned one more time. The door beeped red and a loud alarm went off, lighting the halls in flashing red.

"_Ah hell,_" he said as he Force blasted the door open. The door flew through its hinges and smashed into the wall. A single computer engineer was working at the mainframe with one soldier supervising him. The guard reached for his pistol but the man flicked open his left wrist blade and jumped up, jabbing the blade into the guard's right eye and grabbing the pistol from him.

"You have five seconds to put this drive into the mainframe before I burn a hole through your head." The flabbergasted engineer nearly fumbled the memory stick he was tossed. "_Five….four….three…!_"

"Okay it's in!" yelled the engineer as he raised his hands to the back of his head.

"Download it…" The engineer did not move, for he was scared for his life. "_NOW!_"

"Alright alright!" he yelled. "_Damn it_," he whispered as he began the downloading process. The terrified servant was cursing and panting to himself. "What is this?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." The engineer felt as if the apprentice himself had come down and threatened to spill his guts for pleasure.

"Look…Revan right?" The man made no reply but merely kept the pistol aimed at his face. "Look…if Shark comes down here, we're both dead…and I mean, you're supposed to be dead already right?"

"Shut up." The download finished and suddenly the computer screens began to fuzz and a red text encrypted code filled the screens. Once the download was finished, the stick self destructed in the compartment. "This ought to calm you down." He gripped the gun by the barrel and pistol whipped him across the face, knocking him out.

The young revanchist darted back down the hallway and entered the stairwell.

"It's done," he said through his earpiece communicator.

The reply came from his rescue, Cassandra Vesta. "I've got your exit. Sixth floor…take one of the water speeders and head down the river. I'll pick you up at the end."

He smiled. "See you there."

Dustil Onasi, the son of Republic war hero Carth Onasi began vaulting himself upward, flipping over the stair railings. He was dressed in dark blue gear. It was his custom self-made armor, made mostly from Echani fibers and woven with Mandalorian Iron, making it nearly indestructible to lightsabers or the Force. There were heavy metal pads on his shoulders that he put on specifically for melee, but aside from that, the garbs were light and comfortable. There was no heavy chest plate or steel boots like Revan. His sleeves were partially rolled but his black polyester gloves wrapped over them and a short wrist blade attached. Below his waist, the top part stretched slightly downward almost like an overcoat, but not so long as to be a cape or skirt. His dark blue pants were made of the same material, stretching down to his feet like a jumpsuit. It ensured stealth, for his shoes did not clank when he ran. He wore a cup to protect his groin and a utility belt, filled with grenades, knives and star blades. Strangely enough however, he bore no lightsaber or any kind of long blade.

As Dustil made it to the sixth floor, the door opened and two guards rushed in to ambush him. Dustil slammed the door in the face of the first one and grabbed the second one, hurling him backwards and over the ledge. Dustil turned left and ran straight into the room at the end of the hall. As he entered and shut the door, Cavix Sharkraw was strangling a helpless soldier with a line of soldiers on the right side of the room watching. Sharkraw looked at him.

"So this is the little rodent that's been running around my facility. Revan…you're alive…and you changed your appearance. It's a shame…I rather liked your old armor."

"Me?" said Dustil with an ascending smile. "Revan's dead, and I'm sure his armor is too, if all the stories are true."

"I'm going to make an example out of you!"

"We'll see," said Dustil as he pulled a grenade out of the back of his belt and chucked it at him. Sharkraw swerved to the side, causing it to explode in the face of all the soldiers. Dustil vaulted off the ground, flipping over Sharkraw and landing on the other side of him. As he landed, he took both of his star blades and hurled them at him. Sharkraw caught them with his hands and hurled them both back at Dustil.

Dustil grunted as he bent himself backwards, limbo dodging them, while the two blades went straight into the window. Turning around, Dustil charged forward and dove straight through the semi-broken glass and onto the platform below. The glass shattered and fell with him, but Dustil rolled and jumped before they could hit. He turned about to see the apprentice following closely behind him.

Dashing forward and taking the nicest speeder that he saw, he jumped into the single seat and primed the engines. Switching to forward gear Dustil accelerated and took the speeder straight off the platform and into the river, heading east. With the current on his side, Dustil accelerated, heading straight downriver.

"_NO NO, NO!_" yelled Sharkraw. "That's _my_ speeder!" Jumping into the one next to where it was originally parked, Sharkraw took off into the water in pursuit.

Dustil laughed aloud as he increased his speed to nearly full throttle. Sharkraw's face turned from orange to red as he maxed out his engines, his head fuming with rage.

"Attention! Our intruder has escaped! Whatever damage he did, undo it immediately! Alert the other communicators as well and let them know of our status. This is a direct order from the apprentice himself! If things aren't fixed, I will personally crucify random members of the security team!"

Dustil kept his speed consistent, but he noticed that Sharkraw was slightly gaining on him. Sharkraw used the Force to send rocks from the nearby cliff down at Dustil himself. Dustil swerved and ducked to dodge. Seeing a straightaway ahead of him, Dustil turned around and pulled the pistol he had taken from the guard in the basement. Dustil fired continuously at Sharkraw, but the apprentice merely swiped each laser bolt away and sent the last few back at him. Dustil dodged them, but Sharkraw was still gaining on him.

Attempting to get him off his back, Dustil activated the depth charges and then ignited the afterburner. The charges blew in the water, but Sharkraw had already veered straight upward, sending his speeder into the air, flying over the explosions. The afterburner wore off as Dustil came to the end of the straight away and steered with the current. Sharkraw came down and landed in the water very close behind him.

"Damn you for making me do this!" yelled Sharkraw as he sent two underwater torpedoes straight for Dustil. Dustil veered to the left and to the right trying to shake off the torpedoes, but they stayed hot on his trail. Looking at the controls, Dustil submerged the speeder underwater and threw it into a frenzied spin. The two torpedoes that were locked on spun around each other along with the speeder and eventually collided with each other in an underwater cannonball splash explosion as Dustil re-emerged.

Dustil shook the water off his head and looked back to see Sharkraw almost within arm's reach of him. Switching to full throttle, Dustil rocketed ahead of him while tossing his last grenade backwards. This time, Sharkraw leapt off the speeder and landed high atop the cliff on the right side as it exploded. Dustil slowed back to his speed before and veered left at the approaching river fork.

"Cass, I'm almost out! Are you in position!"

"I see you," said Cassandra. "Maneuvering pattern echo – you know the drill." A little more than a kilometer ahead of him, was a two kilometer high waterfall. It was very wide, like the river Dustil was on, but the water raged downward as if never ending.

Dustil looked to the right and then to his left to see that Sharkraw had jumped to the other side of him. He was now running beside the river at the same speed that Dustil was travelling at. Dustil looked back to his controls to see that the afterburner was still recharging. It was slowly rising to the top from 88%.

"Come on, _come on!_" yelled Dustil out loud. The edge of the river was now dead ahead, several hundred meters in front of him. Sharkraw was still running alongside Dustil and was now charging up a massive bolt of red lightning. As he aimed and shot it towards him, Dustil increased to full throttle, charging ahead quickly, the lightning barely missing him.

As the afterburner approached 96%, the edge was now a few hundred meters in front of him. The meter read 97%...98%...99%...100%.

The split second it reached max, Dustil activated the afterburner and flew straight over the edge. Past the raging water and into open air the speeder began to fall at an incredible speed, Dustil clinging to the handlebars for his life and dangling upward.

Sharkraw cursed and screamed as he stood over the edge of the cliff overlooking the falls. Dustil vaulted off the speeder as it fell to its imminent doom. While still falling, Dustil reached his hand all the way forward to the approaching _Outrider_. His hand caught onto the lowered ramp of the floating vessel and Dustil gripped it with all his might. Pulling himself up and onto the ramp, Dustil began moving further in.

"_Go!_" he cried as Cassandra put it into full thrust and the _Outrider_ jetted into the sky. As Dustil kept moving in, he looked back to see a massive boulder heading straight for the ship. Without even thinking, he used the Force and grabbed onto the boulder, stopping it from hitting the ship, and then threw it straight backward. He was too far away to see the impact, but he knew not to underestimate the famed apprentice.

Meanwhile, a thick red aura floated around Sharkraw's fuming state of being. His sick yellow eyes beamed up at the sky with hatred and malice. He stood for hours and the longer he stared up at the empty sky, the more violent his thoughts became.

The _Outrider_ hit hyperspace the moment it cleared Lazoris atmo. Dustil sighed and gave himself a smug grin.

"Oh, don't do that," said Cassandra, looking back at him with her own cheerful smile. "You haven't won yet. We could get intercepted and torn to pieces in hyperspace."

"And the odds of that happening are one in…a very large number," replied Dustil. "We're still dead, remember?"

"We keep this up, the Sith'll figure it out and come after us hard."

"And I'll be there to keep you safe and warm."

"Well I am a little cold…" Cassandra didn't even need to say that considering her relationship with Dustil as it was now. Dustil tilted her head back from the top of the seat and kissed her upside down.

"You ever going to let me fly this thing?"

"Nah, not really. Besides, you have other things to worry about. I know you haven't done your daily meditations yet."

"Meditations can wait – what Revan doesn't know won't hurt me."

Cassandra laughed. "If you took the same attitude to your training earlier on, you might not have gotten me."

"Oh alright," said Dustil and he pecked her lips one more time as he walked away.

An hour passed and Cassandra pulled the ship out of hyperspace into the Nagai system. Immediate contact was established with the rebels and the response man was happy to see them.

"How is it that even though all you did was fly the ship you always have that look on your face like you haven't slept the previous night?"

"Because Jace, thanks to _someone_ whose every failed experiment turns into an explosion…" They both shared a laugh.

"I can tell my virus worked," said Jace. "That'll get our own database synced up with theirs and at the very least, triple source every piece of intel we get on them from now on."

"This mission seemed a bit more…overt than usual." But Jace gave her a look to hint that she shouldn't worry about it – as if he had already taken care of everything. "Am I clear?"

"You even have to ask?" Cassandra smirked and cut transmission.

Nagai was not a planet built to withstand civilization but the artificially drilled caverns beneath the icy surface housed a slowly growing military industrial complex from the ashes of the Kraxis Rebellion.

What was once less than fifteen had over the past three years grown to about two hundred strong. The infrastructure of the base was enhanced accordingly and the power and heat generators designed by Jace Myrther had done their trick of making it comfortable enough to work with. What was tricky about this was that these soldiers tended to have a much more structured and even somewhat overzealous discipline when the overall temperature was lower than normal because their bodies had to be moving and the drive to work would be increased.

But at the same time it was problematic because of their recruiting procedures. Secrecy was absolutely the biggest challenge for an organization attempting to grow itself and the bigger it got, the harder it could conceal itself. A well known constantly moving fleet was much more attractive to locate the potential for dissidence among the populations – much more than an underground hole in an empty ice planet with similar cold conditions inside. Second Lieutenant Yuthura Ban had hoped to have found a happy medium in the temperature but it was but a small remedial task in an otherwise extremely non-trivial set of duties and tasks to manage. It was indeed why she was appointed for the job.

The way they had grown in membership was thanks to the former second in command of the old rebellion, Archie Saww. He stealthily scoured the outer planets of the Sith empire looking for dissenters and troublemakers to the regime. When he'd find them, he'd do enough studying to determine whether it was a trap or not, and if they checked out, he'd quickly nab them before they could draw too much of the Sith's attention. With Jace's help, he'd quickly slap out any grand ideas for rebellion they might have and get them on their side. Then he would use them to recruit their contacts and friends into joining. Compiling all these dissidents into one big ice cave might have seemed like a challenge but the structured organization and strong physical training, working, and leadership quickly brought on loyalty and dedication from their new members.

But Revan could not be fooled. If the current situation could be summarized into a book, the positives would occupy about one in every 100 pages of negatives. The size of the rebellion now was less than a tenth of what it used to be and three years seemed to have gone by at the drop of a hat. He couldn't sit forever and only be able to actually fight the enemy when he reached Jolee's age before his death, and those people he recruited were also not going to wait forever. This was an uphill operation from the start and there was no margin for error at all. As was expected they had sooner had more weapons than soldiers who could use them and with the exception of the _Outrider_ and a few squadrons of snub crafts for shuttling cargo and personnel, they also might as well have been stranded. He felt like a marooned pirate trying to get off the island without the resources to make a raft big enough for all his furry friends.

There was so much to do and so little to work with. The hopes and ambitions they had when they pledged to revive the rebellion and bring down the Sith were getting dimmer and dimmer and the fact that they were dead was of no consolation. He needed to find followers, win the support of big groups. Groups that may well have resources they don't. This individual recruiting wasn't going to be good enough. Revan found himself pacing the floor more often than he probably should of, but his power as a leader rested in his charisma but before that, his innovation and ideas. The rebellion as it was now could be handled between Yuthura and Trek so long as Revan himself didn't run out of energy.

Cassandra set the _Outrider_ down in the designated docking bay in the Nagai base. The shielded blast doors closed above it as the ramp opened.

"Welcome back," said Jace who was waiting for them both. Dustil shook his hand. "Come on…Revan is waiting."


	2. Chapter 2: True Sith's Most Wanted

**Part I**

**Reemergence

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**Chapter 2**

**True Sith's Most Wanted

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"_It's a lie; all of it!"_ – Rese

_"For the last time, the answer is no," said Revan. "After everything that's happened, I'm not going to let you just run off to get yourself killed trying to train under the True Sith…I need you here."_

_ "You really don't," replied Jace. "You've taken Dustil under your wing and your best use of my talent is information gathering. There's no better place to do it."_

_ "I can't afford to lose anyone, especially you. You're talking about joining them and possibly even becoming a double agent."_

_ "It's no sweat, really." Revan gave Jace another look of suspicion. "To them I'm just a Force sensitive kid with a lot of potential…they're not going to turn me away."_

_ "You're right; they'll just kill you. I made the mistake of underestimating the enemy once and it cost us a rebellion. I'm not going to do that again…not while we're dead."_

_ "That's exactly why it's the best time to do it," countered Jace. "You haven't grown your numbers yet so you actually need me even less. I'll be of better use to you if I learn more of the Sith's ways and do a little better myself."_

_ Revan thought for another brief moment. "The answer is no." And he walked away, leaving Jace to scowl in frustration._

But in the few months that followed along with such slow progress, Jace was persistent, a loud and obnoxious side of him Revan had never seen before. When Yuthura offered to put Archie Saww in her position and go with Jace with the promise of watching each other's backs Revan reluctantly agreed, provided the condition that he be kept appraised of everything.

"_This better not turn into a change of heart,"_ Revan had warned them. But he didn't even need to tell them that; they knew the consequences. Revan shut off the fast forwarding three-year-old holotapes of what the rebellion had been doing beforehand.

For nearly two years, Yuthura and Jace had been away, returning to Mengskin to infiltrate the Sith academy as prospective students – the exact same stunt Revan pulled on Korriban that allowed him to meet and eventually befriend Yuthura and Dustil. Their infiltration went absolutely perfectly because even the Sith could not turn a blind eye when some of their own prospective students got put in their place by a couple of Force sensitive outsiders. True Sith were generally no fools but things at their academy ran a little different than their high branches of government. Admission into the academy was supposed to be nearly unattainable with anything short of family recognition and/or actual discovery for potential.

But just like the dark Jedi back home, what one really had to do was impress them. When three True Sith acolyte students were on the job of transporting an incredibly pernicious alien criminal with a loyal cult following from one side of the planet to another, Jace and Yuthura took it upon themselves to finish the job for them. The first thing they did was secretly spy on the ambush party and their little campfire in a secluded area of the jungle. Jace did his job of keeping all of their minds at ease in a blissful slumber while Yuthura viciously stabbed them to pieces one by one with their own daggers, until only one remained. An ear-piercing scream was heard from a distance later that morning. Of course, that scream was heard only by Jace, Yuthura, and the petrified alien criminal, so taken aback by the same barbarism they showed upon those Sith acolytes that thought themselves more than capable of handling what was clearly way over their heads. The criminal was transported and all things considered, Jace and Yuthura were welcomed into the academy with high praise, after of course a brutal and rigorous initiation process in which they had to convince everyone that they were not spies. It cost them a few months worth of bruises but nothing they couldn't heal from. To Yuthura, they might as well have disappeared in a week considering all the tattoos on her body. Revan remembered how much he laughed during their first undercover debrief.

The undercover academy mission took two years out of their lives but they learned wonders of True Sith culture and the real extent of their mastery of the dark side of the Force. Real manipulation came naturally to Jace but Yuthura found it very difficult. The difference was truly in the mind. So often on Korriban did the teachers warn students about venturing into the tombs because of the power in the tombs that ran wild and could easily corrupt the mind. Yuthura now could not help but feel rather pathetic about herself at the time – that same ravenous power that could change even the most prepared individual was precisely what was taught by the True Sith. They would teach their students the true secrets of the human and Sith psyche – the challenges and obstacles with solutions alike. On the other hand, the actual combat and leadership training came naturally to Yuthura but not to Jace. Myrther's performance was far beyond passing level but he could hardly be called valedictorian in the field of study.

Yuthura was especially fascinated by how the Sith taught their students at the academy and how it differed from how things happened at Korriban. Obviously the training levels were fierce and the standards were very high, but as opposed to how most other schools that existed in the entire galaxy could maybe take pride if they had such aspects, all that was just implied – the scratch at the surface of the training depth. Centuries of didactic prowess had the course structure and school setup pretty much at the level of flawless.

The students were taught and conditioned to let go of their irascible tendencies by any means necessary. The academy freely allowed the students to form attachments and there was less of the dark side loyalty sentiment. It was not to say necessarily that the students became stronger for it, but more rather that learning teamwork and understanding how their strength in the Force was derived from one another that they developed respect and cooperation, as opposed to a constant civil war-like competition that always led the Dark Jedi to their demise. The Korriban excuse was "the strong must always rule' taken literally, and the answer to that obvious question would just be to ignore it and let the dark side of the Force work its magic. The students at _this_ academy were essentially taught to be one with the dark side, without the weaknesses of being such – just like the True Sith themselves.

But the most fascinating part of the Mengskin Academy was that upon Yuthura and Jace's entry, many of the teachers adopted a sort of model as part of their curriculum, especially for the non-True Sith. That model was 'the late' Amicus Trek himself. Apparently there were so many, not just at the school but also among the entire Sith race, all of whom had a great admiration for Trek. Of course this was now that he was declared dead; when he was alive he was the most detested and wanted treasonous criminal in the galaxy whose very breath was an insult to the Sith race. Now that he was gone, the Sith themselves had a change of attitude about him. Not that they wanted any of their human friends to turn into him, but his power and his influence was something the Sith could not help but to respect because Trek had in essence shown them what humans are capable of doing for better or for worse – a way to make humans feel important and potent. It was no longer a slap in the face to be compared to Trek; now it was something of an accolade. Since his death, the Sith could now readily admit that the man truly made even the strongest of them experience fear. It was alike to a society reaction every time a controversial celebrity died…only turned to loyal role model.

The academy accepted and trained students of all ages and offered no binding contract with it. Through the withering of time and environment, the students grew loyal and their service to the Sith, whether by military or diplomacy or information gathering was just something that could be expected without being demanded. Others would take what they learned and pursue a private career. The Sith made it a point to not make any shame out of doing so; there were a large handful of honorary graduates who pursued a private life and were recognized for their contributions to the dark side of the Force – the very power that made the True Sith exist in the first place.

Archie ran base operations as smoothly as ever, but the problem was there was nothing much to run. The plan could not have been duller or tedious: recuperate, rebuild, recruit, and restore.

Not that being dead had anything to do with it, but as Jace had pointed out, the True Sith were quite lacking in their real information that they had on Revan and the Kraxis Rebellion. While it was clear that the Sith didn't need to know much to crush them in a swift stroke, it would make for very good use now that they were all "dead". No records existed on Yuthura Ban or Jace Myrther or even Dustil Onasi for that matter. It wasn't to say that none of them came close but the Sith never knew them, despite how many of their kin whose lives were brought to an end by them.

These so called operations Revan had ordered, it was merely at a point of making the Sith a little uncomfortable and uneasy without getting their cover blown, as well as getting attention and speculation from everyone else. The work Marill Jono Rainer had been doing in getting recruits simply wasn't enough to increase their numbers and considering their location, they needed to work to try and get a bit more non-Sith traffic in their vicinity of space so they could actually grab something.

Having to remain dead and underground as well, Trek did what he could to deal with the new recruits and train them – one could not have found a better drill sergeant. He gave himself a different name for the time being just to be safe but enough mind tricks executed proved that all their recruits were trustworthy.

Yuthura on the other hand had gotten herself into a bit of a pickle several months back that unintentionally brought her face (but no name) to the number 3 slot on the list of "True Sith's Most Wanted". The number 1 and 2 men had been on the list for decades and even Trek had done his fair share of hunting for them back in his days as a Sith and turned up empty. Thank the Force that the Sith had no trace of Yuthura when she disappeared and could not track her to the hidden rebels. She was safe on Nagai so long as she didn't leave.

* * *

_ The target was dead, a fresh kill from Yuthura's shoto and before security could arrive in the room, Yuthura was out of there. She slowly and subtly moved through the streets of Shikara and after signaling pickup from Cassandra, she sat on a bench in the middle of a busy street corner with a large newspaper in her hands._

_ All of a sudden, the screens made available to the public displayed Yuthura's face. Yuthura knew what was going on but hesitated to move, hoping that the newspaper would do its job. But as proximal whispers grew, one courageous individual peeled back a part of the paper and the whispers were replaced by gasps and cries. But she was ready. She had her gun out and immediately fired two shots in the air, causing the already busy street corner to turn into a pandemonium. Screams of horror and helplessness filled the air, as there was not a single armed person in the streets – one of Shikara's stricter policies on social life._

_ Yuthura used the cover to duck the crowd and she made her way to the roof of the easiest building she could climb. She thought she was safe…until she turned around. Three humans and a True Sith were right on top of her._

_ She wanted to curse out loud for humor but her instincts told her to hold her tongue and squeeze the trigger. The humans were dropped at once and Yuthura tossed away the pistol as she started running. As she unsuccessfully attempted to elude the nimble Sith, she noticed a backup hunting party headed her way. Some in the crowd at the bottom were starting to cheer the Sith on as they saw her on the run. The Sith lunged for a tackle off the roof but Yuthura dropped onto a supporting pole. As the Sith flew overhead, she grabbed his foot and pulled him down upside down. Yuthura leaned from the edge with only her foot for support and with her other hand, snagged the long dagger from the Sith's belt and plunged it straight through his thigh and into the wall like a nail to a crucifix. She ignored the screams from the blood-exuding Sith and once again abhorred masses below and began running again._

_ Even to Yuthura, the next half hour might as well have been a blur because the blood seemed to cease its flow to her head and instead concentrated into the rest of her body as she further evaded and fought off the hunting party, followed up by more and more waves of True Sith. Dozens of bodies and Sith corpses cluttered the clean and civilized low-rises and streets and Yuthura kept running. Eventually, that was all that Cassandra was using in her efforts to pinpoint her location in the little shuttle she was flying._

_ The situation seemed impossible enough already but she refused to get herself encircled. It wasn't obvious enough how much she had pissed them off until she saw a small assault aircraft head straight for her. She plunged back to the streets and used civilians for cover. For someone once trained to proficiency in the dark side of the Force, this was easy and stomachable but nonetheless quite annoying. When she finally got herself into a tower, she stabbed in plain sight the nearest citizen in a nonlethal spot to get everyone else to disperse and rush out the same door her followers were trying to get in through. She didn't want to intentionally kill any civilians, but this was one of those situations where her gut simply had to think for her._

_ At the top of the tower where a large silent bell hung from the ceiling, she moved to the edges and hid in the corner, hoping to evade the incoming fighter. Instead, a high caliber laser blast darted past her and slapped the bell, causing a blaring toll that shook the floor she stood on. Covering her ears hardly seemed to do any good, and Yuthura began to feel queasy and disoriented. She forced herself to bring her senses back, but not soon enough to stop her from toppling over the edge. She found herself dangling over a hundred meters above the city floor and the Sith fighter circling around the building to eventually see her._

_ But to make matters worse, as she looked below her, she saw two Sith field teams on the much lower but adjacent rooftops preparing mortar shells. As the Sith fighter drew closer to the point where Yuthura could see the vainglorious look on the pilot's face, a torpedo hit the back of the shuttle and threw the craft into a giant ball of fire. Yuthura continued to hold on and pressed her face towards the wall to avoid the hot metal pieces flying everywhere. Then in another astonishing surprise, the mortar teams were cut to shreds before they could sound off a shot. Her rescue shuttle arrived and Cassandra put her in the position where the ramp would catch her fall. _

_As Yuthura let herself in, she turned to see two human chasers who had made it to the top and were beginning to fire at her. With all the spare power she could muster, Yuthura used the Force to split the giant bell from its hinges. The two men were thrown straight from the edge and the bell began crashing its way down the tower, floor by floor. Glass panes on the sides of the building were smashed as the bell made its way to the bottom, constantly letting out its deathly sound into the air._

"_Are you quite done?" Cassandra said as she closed the ramp and got the ship moving._

"_Did you have to use a torpedo on that thing?"_

"_You can thank Jace for installing that when we get back."_

_Yuthura sighed and collapsed of exhaustion. "Blast it all…"_

"_On the brighter side, Trek's going to be quite jealous."_

"_And on the darker side, the Sith have my face and they're going to remember this. Never did I imagine these…dreadful good looks to be on the Sith's "most wanted" posters."_

"_Oh pipe down…" Cassandra brought the shuttle straight into hyperspace before the Sith could intercept it; a clean get away…mostly.

* * *

_

Dustil and Cassandra walked the halls, keeping close behind Jace. It was not like they needed to but they had been conversing the whole way about how the operations went. Jace veered off to get back to his own station and Cassandra gave Dustil passing kiss before she returned to the docking bay.

As he turned the final corner, he heard Yuthura's voice in Revan's chamber.

"I'm just saying these are Trek sized ops…" he heard her say. "We'd be lucky if what we do even causes the Sith to flinch."

"Old foe, new habits," said Revan. "We don't want them to flinch. We need the intel so we can take bigger bites at softer targets. But the dead don't bite."

"I get it," Yuthura snarled back. "It's just…playing dead for three years with the plan to keep it that way for even longer…we're getting older."

"Yeah, but it's only starting to show for a few of us," interjected Dustil as he entered the chamber.

"Congratulations on your first mission accomplished," said Yuthura. "I knew you had it in you."

"It was fun," said Dustil. "There's just one problem – Sharkraw has seen my face."

"Does he know your name?" asked Yuthura.

"No."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"You know, you say that all the time – how incomplete the Sith's records are, yet somehow they actually had to sweat a little in order to kill us, but even before that, the Grand Sire knew about Revan and even the name Bastila."

"You don't have to talk about me like I'm on some other planet," snarled Revan. "Yuthura, thank you; resume your duties." Yuthura bowed and walked away. "So the apprentice knows what you look like…"

Dustil put on a kind of childish puppy face. "Please don't be mad." He really didn't want a lecture but he could smell it coming.

"It's no matter. Even if the Sith somehow figure out that Trek and I are still alive, you are low enough on the profile – not even registered when we took that job under Gunthamore. So there's no way they'll be able to connect you to me, especially when they still don't know I'm alive."

"The apprentice thought I was you."

"Too bad for him. But you have more important things to worry about. Did you do your daily meditation exercises?" Dustil nodded, but Revan didn't believe him. "But only after Cassandra nagged you to do it…"

"I did them anyway."

"That's the problem," said Revan. "It's not enough just to _do_ these exercises. You can understand everything about the Force and it would still mean nothing. You could allow the Force to flow through you and know of its will compared to your own, and it would not help you.

"This is a personal exercise, so it is up to you how much you want to get out of it, but as your teacher I would advise you to make the best use of it as you can. As mundane as it can get, you must find enough inspiration to be able to internally re-present yourself."

"You've told me this before…"

"And I'll keep telling you until you understand it," snapped Revan. "Something the Sith and the Jedi have in common is that their teachings both place heavy emphasis on knowing thyself. The Jedi are a little better about this than the Sith are because the Sith's way of knowing themselves is exclusively through combat, but you must learn to know yourself through all aspects. Only by doing that can you adapt your understanding and control of the Force to suit you.

"Remember when we started off? I told you that you needed to be more than just a weapon against the Sith. Now that you know how deeply the Force responds to you, you need its power to adapt to suit your own strengths and weaknesses…which at first requires you to _know_ your strengths and weaknesses. This isn't something I can do for you because you are different; that's why it is important that you keep to it."

Dustil nodded. "You've just inspired me. I'll go do some real ones right now." He bowed and then left. Revan had never asked him to bow before him, but Dustil had a habit of doing it anyway.

* * *

_In the chamber of the Galactic Senate…_

"I'll say again: the time for us to act is _now!_" boomed conservative Senator Liam Arcturus of Corellia to the chamber. "For too long have we as politicians thought of nothing but the next election. For too long have we catered to the needs of the greedy bastards who fund our campaigns behind closed curtains in exchange for our political favors at the expense of the common man!

"The Republic as a global superpower is dying, and with every coin we steal from the machine to help ourselves, the more we facilitate its doom. I'm sure I don't have to go over the numbers again but each and every statistic to us is a life story for someone else. Keep your arrogant disillusioned pride about looking out for your constituency if you must, but further neglect over the highest priorities however politically liable they are will do them no good! I yield the rest of my time to the chancellor. Thank you."

Thunderous applause coming from nearly everyone echoed the whole room but Arcturus wanted none of it. He knew it didn't mean anything and he left the chamber as fast as he could before he could even hear it.

All these speeches politicians made with equal charisma was just for show; it was all meant to impress the constituents who cared enough about politics to actually pay attention. There was no real leadership in any of it. Most of these other senators could not be trusted to make good on their word because political expediency was always their priority and Arcturus knew it. By the Force, he believed every word that he was speaking but he was a realist – by speaking of these problems and giving the impression that he was a fiery idealist with the will to fix it was boosting his own ratings and in his case, it actually did serve his purposes. For all he cared, he had said what he needed to say and done what he needed to do.

"_The latest speech following similar themes amongst a handful of both conservative and liberal politicians, you just heard from Corellian Senator Liam Arcturus. Despite how widely known for his candor he is, this is the first time the senator has made a public appearance in a long time._"

"_You know, when you have members of both parties openly agreeing with each other in such a public setting you'd think positive thoughts, yet the speeches themselves have been so pessimistic. It really feels like a hasty call to arms._"

"_In other news, another settler colony on Dantooine was attacked by an unknown group of mercenaries. Local police suspect it as the same group to be responsible for similar attacks reported twice last week. When asked how much information the Republic navy had about this, Rear Admiral Carth Onasi made no comment…_"

Juhani switched off the holochannel newsfeed and gave herself a deep sigh. Nearly three years of living alone like a non-Jedi with nothing to do but lay low and watch the news might have been bearable if the news wasn't so negative all the time.

The rancors were just getting bigger and bigger – more and more stories airing about how bad things were. Senseless attacks on the Republic by the Sith, yet no leads on who or where specifically they were, a brutal economic depression with deficits and banking interest rates through the roof; Juhani was lucky, having bought her house on Malastare before they got so high. She might as well have been retired, but for a Jedi, all of this never stops.

Her communicator went off and she picked it up in a hurry. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry Juhani," came the scrambled voice of her contact. "I can't do this anymore."

"Why Rese? What is wrong?"

"Keep the rest of your payments, and don't say my name!" he bellowed to her. Juhani was taken in shock by what she was hearing but she let him continue. "Remember our arrangement; I don't exist! I'm in over my head and I am washing my hands clean of this."

"Clean of what?" Juhani pleaded. "Come on, talk to me."

The citizen might as well have been babbling but Juhani understood most of it. "It's a lie; all of it! You just don't understand – as soon as I found out, I put my wife and kid on a transport off planet. I couldn't even tell them why."

"You can tell me."

He sighed over the comm. "My contact told me that there were politicians in the Senate who were actively working to bring down the Republic military. Less than twenty four hours after he told me this, his office burned down with him inside. All the official records called it an accident."

"Maybe it was…"

"At such coincidental timing? Not a chance. He couldn't give me any names but his information was accurate. Sorry Juhani; I'm out. I have to go join my family and lay low for a while. Do what you will with this information but do not contact me."

"Rese…" But the other party had already disconnected. She yelled his first name again but it was no use.

It had not been long enough that Juhani could process what she had just been told. It would never normally come as a shock to any informed citizen that politicians were doing dishonest things and such corruption was always progressively getting worse – even to the point of veteran politicians openly taking pride for how their own dirty work stopped at a certain point for the sake of doing their patriotic elected duty to serve the people.

But were there people 'actively working' to harm the regressive and deteriorating military wing of the Republic? No…that could not be right; that fell under the definitions of treason and sedition. Yet he verified his information as accurate and even dangerous, which means now she might have to tread carefully. Obviously something was at stake, but if there was – the next question would be to what degree and if it was even worth looking into.

Juhani sighed deeply and sunk back onto her sofa at a total loss.

* * *

_Thank you for continuing with this story. We are really excited to be working on this again. Happy 2011!_

_Please review our story.  
_

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	3. Chapter 3: Primal Instincts

**Part I**

**Reemergence

* * *

****Chapter 3: **

**Primal Instincts

* * *

**

"_Something tells me that in this lifetime, I will not see him again."_ – Vandar Tokare

"No, I'm not going to yield the rest of my time to the chairman, thank you very much!" bellowed Liberal Echani Senator Miranda Kerrigan. "If I just caved in and bowed to the wishes of my party by becoming a hack against the other side just so we can plow through more of the same old cosmetic reforms that do nothing but clear an entire forest for every copy that got printed, I wouldn't be doing my job.

"Mr. Chairman, I'll tell you your problem – you bought into the very rhetoric you were trying to fool your constituents and considering your poll numbers, it looks like it's coming back to bite you. The Republic is teetering on the brink of financial collapse and here were are wasting our constituents' time trying to convince them that somewhere in the seven hundred thousand page bill is the magical solution to their money problem? I'm _in_ your party and even I'm not buying this, and neither are my constituents. I don't care if I did work to make this bill better – you're not getting my vote. What you'll get it is further bankruptcy in the places that can ill afford to lose it and I will have no part of it."

No applause came to the Senator, most likely because she had silenced them all. It was the very end of a committee hearing that this was happening and Kerrigan was the first to leave. The chairman did his best to console everyone by complimenting the senator on her candor but he could tell that it didn't fly. He had just been humiliated.

Meanwhile Miranda Kerrigan herself regrouped with her staff behind the room.

"You did great, Senator," the aide said.

"Don't patronize me," growled Kerrigan. "It's not easy to not vote for a bill you worked so hard at to make better. Come on; I need to make a show at the Ag committee hearing."

Being a moderate, whether it was in the minority or majority party, had its price. The price was the lack of a life. Miranda Kerrigan was a senator who probably got more publicity than Darth Malak, at least to those who paid attention. Her entrance into the Senate was an upset election but her fierce domination of the chamber, coupled with her striking looks quickly brought enough money and support to never have to run a campaign again. Of course, that never stopped her from doing so, but it did make that part of life a little easier, only so the stress could come from a different source. Everybody wanted a piece of this happily married model politician with a sex appeal like no other. Her presence was known to light up an entire room. Men stared and tried to hide the increased blood flow to their brain and other parts. Any of their female companions who might have noticed that were quick to forgive them, as they were compelled to stare at her just as much. Couple all of that with the fact that she was a moderate and that made for a recipe for a busier schedule than the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

The bill in particular she was talking about was an attempt to spend hordes of money to keep the markets stable but it did nothing to address the real problem because they were acting like that money came out of thin air. The places that the money could best come from were considered by members of the Liberal Party as "politically untouchable". Kerrigan's refusal to see it that way made her a moderate and for the time being, even further adored by the Conservative minority.

With all she had, Kerrigan knew how to get things done and enough energy to make herself look like she was even having fun in the process, but in all seriousness she knew the bill would pass. There were more than a few hundred thousand pages in the bill, allowing her to slip in what favors she wanted lent to her constituents among other things relatively unnoticed and early enough on that by now it just didn't make a difference. She did what she needed to do.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

"C'mon Dustil, you can do it!"

Revan wasn't sure whether he was being serious or not in terms of his encouragement because this was one of the hardest he had ever seen Dustil struggle. As much fun as it wasn't to watch his apprentice squirm and open up, it had to be done. The completely improvisational training had gotten both of them this far and he was not going to make him quit…even if Dustil sarcastically begged him to.

Dustil took another roundhouse kick to his leg from Amicus Trek, the physical force behind it so strong that it swept him straight back to the ground, his soar bottom feeling the same cold surface it was still trying to get used to. "Ow…" he muttered in an effort to conceal the uncomfortable feeling of how much his right leg was now cramping. Trek was about to extend his hand to help Dustil back up but one look at Revan's stern expression and the light shake of the head made him retract. "Mother…" But just for the moment, Trek went completely rogue and pressed his foot against Dustil's chest harder and harder.

"Don't swear, kid…you ain't old enough," he chided. Revan couldn't help but to laugh a bit.

"We've been at this for hours!" groaned Dustil as he got himself up. "Just give it up!"

"I don't care if it takes weeks," replied Revan calmly. He motioned Trek to continue and the veteran giddily began beating on Dustil again. Not that the two of them had any kind of dispute, Trek respected Dustil immensely and knew precisely what he could take. Dustil couldn't help but like Trek because of all the cool and funny stories he told of tearing True Sith to pieces. Trek would probably have more fun beating on Myrther but that kid was either watching from a distance or locked in a lab. It didn't matter.

Dustil could take the beating but by now he was dishing it out and Trek knew to keep it close and tight with him. This was a no weapons and no Force powers fight, but Trek's presence always made it far more interesting than the average hand to hand combat. Aside from the kicks and strikes executed so fast that they could confuse a tornado, Trek was more and more deadly the closer he got.

For this fight, that was precisely why Revan wanted him. Revan needed to be in the bystander point of view and he needed to coach and observe. The point wasn't to make Dustil a better ground-fighter. Dustil was as good as his own physique permitted and for all Revan cared that was enough for now. No, this was a much different lesson than Dustil had ever experienced before – a grueling lesson that rivaled the early days of his apprenticing under Revan. His days as an understudy of the Force were not over, but upon his willpower overpowering the Force – upon his realization of the Force's weaknesses and his breaking free of the bonds from light and dark, he was beginning to think that his hardest lessons were behind him. Another hit to his chest was one among many to dissuade him of such proud thoughts.

Dustil possessed abilities that even Revan sometimes wowed at but Dustil was the hardest person to convince that he could do certain things. The particular power Revan wanted to unlock was the most potent, but also the rarest thing he had ever seen. The training experience from Revan's perspective had been partially guided by curiosity, but Revan would not have been wasting this energy on Dustil if he didn't believe that he could do it.

'Primal Instincts' – that's what Revan called it. Dustil was an animal, and not just in the scientific definition of humanity and definitely not just in the teenage diction sense either. Dustil never even knew it, but he could so easily understand the minds and behavior of animals, even the most seemingly complicated of them all. Revan found Dustil's obliviousness rather funny because in the Korriban Academy, even he couldn't beat Dustil's record timing on the slaying of the starving tukata. Granted, Revan had only made one attempt but his staying longer to perform more famine and genocide on the tukata community was as likely as the Star Maps picking themselves up and walking away.

Dustil could crack the minds of animals faster than Myrther could crack the minds of humans but his affinity for them didn't stop there. Revan actually did not know the limits of it – he had only first gotten a whiff of it during the days of Trek's rebellion when Dustil manipulated the atomic hawks with such ease and had kept a mental note of it ever since.

Over time, Revan had slowly been putting bugs in Dustil's ear that he may have a knack for this kind of thing, since beast control was a hard enough thing by itself. Previous assignments had Dustil manipulate the minds of beasts to hunt for him. The entire assembly feasted that night on fish thanks to him. Enough meditation sessions with him convinced Revan that Dustil may actually have the ability to hone his primal instincts to be able to harness the power of wild nature to feed his physical and supernatural strength. That is – become something of a beast himself.

"He's not going to stop," repeated Revan. "Not until I tell him to…or unless you make him. You never could beat him at hand to hand." Dustil aimed a high blow at Trek but before any power could even be created from Dustil's fist, Trek struck him at his sides and then knocked him down with a high front kick. Down the boy went.

"I can't beat him," said Dustil, kicking his way up. "Not on my own."

"Have you forgotten?" replied Revan. "You are never alone."

"You said no Force powers!"

"But I didn't say no Force…" Revan's reply made Trek chuckle a bit.

It took Dustil a few more hits and beatings to fully understand this and really fight back. Trek knocked him down to the ground again, and Revan once again made him get up for what seemed like the hundredth time. As Dustil reached full posture, Trek aimed a somewhat deliberately sloppy strike at him that Dustil intercepted. He swung and threw Trek away, but Trek rolled and recovered, just in time to intercept Dustil's charge. Trek aimed a low sweeping kick, but Dustil flipped high over him. But as Dustil came down, Trek's foot was waiting for him. It caught him straight in the chest and Trek spun and hit him again with an axe kick to slam him flat on his back once again.

"Not good enough," said Trek. "C'mon kid…be a man!"

Now Dustil was clawing. The hair on his face stood up tall on the sides like they were reaching out. "I'm not a man…I'm an _animal!_" He growled again as he grabbed Trek by the neck with one hand and Trek could see the boy's eyes turn feral right before Dustil threw him straight into the wall. As Trek recovered from the surprise attack, Dustil rampaged his way across straight in his direction, with the deepest and most ferocious roar he had ever heard from a man.

But right at the point of impact, Dustil was stopped and hurled backward by an awesome Force push from Revan who appeared right between them at the last split second. Dustil showed his teeth with a deep hiss but it turned to a sigh and then a deep breath. Coherence came back to the apprentice as his hair settled down and eyes showed human pupils again.

"Very good."

Trek had only a blank stare on his face, which Revan knew to be the most revealing expression he could ever get. The man dusted himself off and said nothing. He exchanged nods with Revan before walking off. Revan could smell the hint of fear that came from Trek in the split second before Dustil might have torn his head off.

"Are you still with me?" Dustil nodded. "This is what I was talking about – you've got talent, but you're never going to unlock that talent if you don't seek it out for yourself. You're just lucky I've got a good eye for it."

"I don't know what came over me," Dustil replied. "I knew what I was doing, but I suddenly just felt this…hunger for the hunt and kill. Did I lose control?"

"Did you?"

"I…I don't think so." Dustil didn't know what being honest exactly was in this scenario. "I mean…I had my senses and I calmed down after you blasted me back."

"As does any sensible beast," Revan replied. "But obviously you're going to need a better conditioning of it."

"But what happened to me? I felt my physique change, I felt like I didn't even need sight to see my opponent."

"You're a beast," said Revan. "It's your subconscious mind using the Force to unlock your primal animal survival instincts. Overtime, your strength and speed from the beast will grow, because this is where you direct the Force in your own body."

"So that means…when I'm like that, no Force powers?" Revan nodded. "Interesting tradeoff."

"Look don't think too heavily on it tonight. I'll show you the video recordings in the morning; for now just relax and go see Cassandra."

* * *

Bastila hectically shuffled through the massive pile of papers on her shelves, desperately trying to find a particular contract that Carth needed. Secretary desk work was still not easy even after three years of Jedi retirement. Her work had turned her into a bit of a slob by all third person standards but a messy office was the only way she could actually figure out what was where.

"Ma'am, I have another memo for you from Jedi Atris – same invitation to a Katarr gathering," her assistant said.

"That goes in the same place I put the other ones," replied Bastila. "In the trash…"

"I also have a couple messages from Vrook about the same thing. He really wants you there." It was almost like she was trying to goad Bastila into answering so she would stop getting all these media, but Bastila just acknowledged and waved her away.

"_These people just won't take a hint…_"

But after pulling the contract out and sliding it under Carth's door, she arrived a few minutes late for an appointment she had with Vice Admiral Cede. With recruiting numbers at an all time low, the Supreme Chancellor was the one taking all the heat for it, and his campaign was losing some money. In a desperate set of efforts to get that political baggage away from him, he called on Cede to fix the problem, and Cede needed their help to help out.

This was a particularly screwy system precisely because all the population had for information was numbers and statistics, and when it came to determining military strength, that's what mattered. But at the same time, there was no official war to fight, despite the fact that Jedi were disappearing everywhere and the Republic was becoming less and less popular. It was much like police and their obsession with keeping the crime numbers low and arrests high. If crime was low, arrests would decrease, which would lead people to believe that they weren't doing their jobs right, which would cause them to go after the politicians, and politicians, needing to shake off being a scapegoat for the problems of the entire machine had to dump the problems elsewhere.

So Bastila's hard work and busy schedules for the Republic Navy was all just a really crazy way of doing essentially nothing, but at the same time, things that needed to be done, and both she and Carth knew it.

Cede had his own innovative strategies for making it look like he was receiving fresh units, but he needed Carth's help because it required transferring men upon request, which Cede had worked to make much more abundant. Bastila agreed, so long as it was not considered a political favor, and as long as she herself would have a hand in determining who gets what, based on competence. She had made it very clear to Cede that Carth was not interested in any more career moves, particularly the political ones. Becoming Rear Admiral Lower Half was stressful, and then only a year later had he been forced to go through all of it again when he was promoted by Dodonna to Rear Admiral Upper Half. Dodonna was clearly grooming him for her seat eventually, but Carth wasn't sure if he wanted it. There was just too much politics…far too messy. And with no war, it just wasn't fun.

"How'd it go?" Carth asked her a little later.

"I think I'd prefer reading all those dozens of Jedi letters begging me to go to Katarr."

Carth laughed. "You can go if you want; it's not my call. If you're looking for closure or anything…" Carth knew Bastila didn't want to do this but he could tell that she needed a break.

"I'll be alright," she said.

"What about Juhani?"

"What about her?" Carth raised his eyebrow, wondering how long it had been since Bastila had spoken to Juhani. He himself had not since their last meeting on Telos so long ago, but he figured the two of them would have kept in touch. Bastila dispelled that notion. "I doubt she'll go. It doesn't matter that we guessed wrong about the Sith the first time. Gathering the Jedi into one place where they can all exchange conspiracy theories and try seeing through their self-inflicted blindfolds is just a bad idea. I'll bet half of them don't even realize that Sith are killing them. If I had the time and energy, I'd try to dissuade this conclave from even happening."

"Well why don't you?" Carth half regretted bringing up the question because he really didn't like to see Bastila talk so bitterly about the Jedi. He understood why she did, but even he wasn't so cynical towards them as she had become.

"Waste of my time," Bastila shrugged as she spoke. "They won't listen to me anyway. The odds of them listening to me after I left the Order are even less than the odds of them listening to me when I was part of the Order, and you know how small those were."

"Alright fine; but so long as you're not taking a break, Senator Plexico will be here tomorrow. Can you handle that meeting for me?"

"What does he want now?"

"Whatever politicians decide they want in an election season…I thought you're the legal junkie, not me." Bastila snickered somewhat bitterly at the comment, but she nodded. "But for now, you go get some rest."

Bastila twisted her face. "This is an order; isn't it...?" And Carth nodded.

* * *

"Calm yourself, Apprentice." came the Grand Sire after hearing a torrent of cursing and complaining about the loss of the speed boat. "This insurgent will be dealt with."

"I don't want it dealt with!" snarled Cavix Sharkraw. "I want to deal with it myself. This cannot be forgiven! I want blood!"

"You will do no such thing unless I allow it," the Grand Sire calmly but stern enough so Sharkraw knew who was still in charge. "You have given details in your debrief and we shall act accordingly, but we will not alter our plans."

"And if he alters it?"

Zazz looked at his apprentice suspiciously. "Are you afraid…my apprentice?" Sharkraw gave the Sire a look like he had just been insulted, but Zazz didn't care. "Answer my question."

"Of course not, Sire! I want that boy found and beheaded. He deserves far worse for what he did to my boat."

"Your materialistic desires are of no concern to me," stated Zazz, indicating that he wanted the conversation to end. "Return to your post and await my orders. This is the last time I wish to hear about it."

Sharkraw gave an angry bow as he stormed out of the throne room on Voss. Zazz sighed in disappointment at the flaws of his apprentice but his senses told him that it was best to just let it be. Sharkraw knew the repercussions for directly violating the wishes of his master but recklessness and persistence were qualities that were an inherent part of his personality. When Zazz was a bit younger and more naïve, he chose the much younger Sharkraw as his apprentice in part because of those characteristics – in that he felt they would help in the progression of his power and drive him to get results, a quality that many Sith did not truly have despite how they acted. But as the years and training had gone by, Sharkraw still had this immaturity to his behavior and that was the real disappointment. Zazz did not approve of the way Sharkraw treated his subordinates and carried his inflated ego everywhere he went. A part of him still hoped that his apprentice would grow out of it; there was still time, for the apprentice was so far from his match in power the thought of usurpation never even crossed his mind. But at the same time, Zazz's patience only went so far, as was made clear by the way he handled the Amicus Trek situation. But Zazz was still rational; there was nothing he could really do but sit on the problem. There were more pressing matters to worry about.

As he left the atmosphere, Sharkraw radioed a discreet holochannel to the private team of bounty hunters he had hired and gave his orders. "I do not care what it takes. You will receive payment pending results only. But I want him found, or you'll be more worried about losing that which you care about!"

"Understood…sir," came the final nervous reply before Sharkraw cut the transmission.

* * *

_In an isolated area in the Mid Rim…_

A Jedi Knight walked the surface of the planet Katarr. An average looking woman dressed in classic blue Jedi Knight garbs with the brown robe over that grew damp as it absorbed the autumn humidity. She passed through a town, ripe with the civilization of the Miraluka race. What a wonderful planet this was. The currents in the air, the ebb of all life, all could be felt by those attuned to the Force. Despite the physical beauty, one did not need eyesight to appreciate this world – a point that almost made him envious of the Miraluka race. They were by all accounts blind, yet they knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going. They required no stick to highlight the obstacles in their path; they required no animal to sniff out the path they needed to take. The Force was their guide; it flew freely through them and resided in their cells. Their Force sensitivity was purely genetic, as was their physical blindness, but that just didn't matter. The Miraluka were peaceful, beautiful and graceful in their ways – a trait that reaffirmed her beliefs of how a Jedi should be.

This particular individual knew very little about the Miraluka, but with everything that she was quickly learning about them, she really wished to see more of them in the Order. What an amazing set of diverse characteristics they would add. Too much did the Jedi know of war and conflict and too often did they train to fight in them despite how much it was looked down upon. The Miraluka could bring about a perspective of the Force in daily life – but then again, to a Jedi, what was daily life if not war and conflict, especially in the present? The Jedi Knight had not seen action in quite a while and had no desire to, but the reason she was here in the first place was to meet with other Jedi. It was chosen because with all the activity, this was a place where their presence could most likely be covertly shielded.

To her embarrassment, she didn't actually know where he was going. She had landed in the largest block of civilization she could find and was acting like a lost wonderer. Jedi always had a unique scent about them but looking for them in a place like this was like looking for a pet cow in a stampede. Of course, these thoughts only went through her head because her early life was on a farm in an arboreal world whose name she didn't even remember.

As she continued to walk in the direction he had started off in, she started to wonder what she was even doing there in the first place. The primary reason was that she was concerned about the future of the Jedi Order. To her, the Jedi were righteous and it was her honor and her life to defend them and their ways, as one of their own. She had grown up in the Order and they were her family. She could not deny her personal interest in all of this but she understood that this was about something bigger than her. This threat against the Jedi could not only be against them. Billions of lives were at stake here, and while she knew to filter such thoughts out of her head to keep from being overwhelmed, she knew it was the truth. This threat that had been hunting and haunting Jedi for the past four years was still not definable. Theories ranged from psychopathic serial killers to mythological creatures that dwelled in Wild Space, all of them truly ridiculous. But the Jedi, still in their interest in recovering from the war with Malak, had become somewhat apart from herself – a fact that made her a little bitter. Long had she respected the wisdom of the Jedi Council and the wisdom of her peers, and yet she could never convene with them. They just hadn't been around to actually give the wisdom and the advice she felt she needed from them to do her part and help the Order like she always wanted. That's why this meeting was more important than ever. It may be the only chance they had to brainstorm and channel their wisdom together to identify the illusive threat.

Not a particular cautious Jedi this one was for she failed to notice the little two-legged creature dressed in very similar clothing walking beside her for the last kilometer. When she finally noticed him, he merely smiled at her but she flushed in embarrassment.

"Master Vandar," she felt a gasp in her own voice. "Forgive me. I was unaware of your presence."

"You were at one with the harmony of this place," replied Vandar in his rough but gentle tone. "If anything, I'm flattered that my presence did not disturb you."

"Oh...of course not." She really didn't know what else to say.

"I see the past years have treated you well."

She flushed again, as she did just about whenever she was complimented by anyone, especially a Jedi Master. "It's not retirement, Master," she affirmed to him. "I just hope all our efforts lead to something."

"This conclave may serve multiple purposes," said Vandar. "I for one hope that we rekindle the friendship and good feeling in the Order; it just feels like something we have lost. The Force is not kind to those who do not possess the wisdom of companionship."

"I wouldn't know anything about that." Again, she didn't know what to say and this was her way of attempting to make it a more one sided conversation at which she could just listen.

"Of course you do," laughed Vandar. "You possess a kind of love for the Jedi that makes me question the depth of even my own commitment to it. We need more Jedi like you; if we cannot even control the morale of our peers, then we can expect that the Sith will not need to destroy us. We will do it ourselves." A woman of few words, she responded only with a blush that Vandar noticed. "Do not worry; this conclave was not even my doing. I am as much of a stranger here as you."

She couldn't help but to giggle slightly at the thought. Vandar always seemed like one of the very few in the entire Order that could always bring people together, the one who paid no attention to himself and whatever flaws he might have had. He was the most selfless Jedi she had ever known and she could hardly imagine what a Jedi Order would look like without him. Hard to imagine that he was not the one pulling the strings here.

"Since you found me, I take it I'm headed in the right direction?"

Vandar shrugged, as if he forgot that he was about three feet shorter than her and that she wouldn't notice. "I suspect other Jedi will be in the area. Jedi have a scent about them that is difficult to miss. If we do not find them, they shall find us." Vandar had an amazing gift at reminding people of little things that they already knew. He could make anyone feel special and at home. And she could certainly use a home.

"Master Vandar, can I ask a personal question?"

"Of course," came the expected reply.

"Do you…have any regrets? About your life…?"

Vandar seemed slightly perplexed by the question but that did not mean he could not answer it. She figured he might ask why she was curious. The fact was she really just wanted to know. Vandar was the one she knew the least but always liked nonetheless. But this was why she was of such few words. Now she felt awkward from a purely innocent question and she had no idea what Vandar would say.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That was inappropriate."

"Do not be," said Vandar. "We all have regrets, things we wish we could back up and start over. I regret losing Revan. Something tells me that in this lifetime, I will not see him again. I regret looking into the eyes of innocent men, women, and children, knowing that their lives may be deemed expendable in an effort undertaken by we Jedi to protect the greater good. In spite of the peace and justice that the Jedi have always stood for, we are not perfect, and as guardians of the Republic, I regret that there was not more I could do to prevent conflict and bloodshed.

"But what I regret the most, was that I took my frustration with the council's lack of wisdom out on them. I love the Jedi with all my heart, but the council was such a hindrance to progress with its paranoia and acuteness. But rather than attempt to fix what was broken, I made things worse. The things that were said…it is not in me to do this. When I mentioned the rekindling of friendship, I was not speaking too generally. We must recognize and surpass our faults, forgive our trespasses, and move on. I only hope the others can forgive me as I long ago forgave them."

His words were astonishing. Not that she disagreed with any of that, but that the council actually argued with each other behind closed chambers was something she was clearly much too naive to realize. "Surely you did not think the Jedi Council knew everything." The way Vandar put it, it sounded ludicrous but the truth was she actually did believe this. What was so wrong about that? After all, they were called Jedi "Masters" for a reason and the whole purpose of the council was to collectively gather the masters as a governing body for the Jedi Order. An entity in place for thousands of years, respected and revered by many other knights and padawans, and it turns out that they're not always right? Spoken from one in their very own?

"Do not think too much of this," Vandar said, sensing the increased activity of her thoughts. "Simply understand that we have an opportunity here to set things right. You must trust your instincts, trust yourself, and trust in the Force."

"And trust in the lessons of history," came the voice of another Jedi Master. "Master Vandar, it is great to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual, Master Dorak."

"And how do you do?" Dorak looked to her and smiled.

"Fine," she smiled again and resisted the flush that was returning to her face.

"I would have thought Master Vrook would be with you," said Vandar.

"Alas, but no," replied Dorak. "But Master Zhar is not far away. I saw some Jedi with him. I've been tracking incoming ships nearby. The last one docked about two hours ago."

"That's mine." Vandar and Dorak both looked at her and then diverted their gaze to other Jedi coming in their direction.

The three Jedi stood at the top of the hill, surrounded by illustrious civilization and awaited the other Jedi that seemed to be arriving all at the same time. She counted more than a few dozen, which was a better turnout than she expected.

"One moment," said Dorak. "I've got one more ship coming in…coming out of hyperspace now."

"Class of ship?"

"Dreadnought…"

Their necks throbbed from the rapid movement of the head, their eyes pointing straight up at the sky as a massive triangular war veteran of a vessel came into view, getting bigger by the second.

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	4. Chapter 4: Weapon of Choice

**Part I**

**Reemergence****

* * *

Chapter 4**

**Weapon of Choice

* * *

**

"_Drop the speech and just kill the bastard already…"_ – Yuthura Ban

Cassandra and Dustil were deep in the moment of passion. Their lips attacked each others' as their hands gently made their way through the thin layers of clothing to their soft tender skin. Cassandra made a quick sheepish giggle as she slid straight on top of him and Dustil quite happily complied. Cassandra's hair was tied up multiple times behind her head so it would not get in the way, something they were both quite happy about.

But that happiness came to a screeching halt when all of a sudden, Dustil let out a scream that made Cassandra throw herself off of him and almost off the bed. As she recovered and looked at him again, his nose was bleeding, and he was grasping both his hand and his heart trying to make the pain stop, an exercise in futility. Cassandra sprinted for a towel and tried wiping the blood off of Dustil's nose, but it would have been a lot easier if Dustil could just stop seizing and writhing in agony. Cassandra's heart started beating faster as she got more and more worried as to just what the hell was going on.

"Something I did?" she asked awkwardly as Dustil slowly sat upright, still clutching his heart and wiping the blood off his nose. As he came to his senses again, he jumped off the bed.

"Revan…" He shot out the door like a whip and Cassandra followed him as fast as she could but she could hardly keep up with him.

"At least tell me what that was!" But Dustil couldn't hear her anymore. Cassandra stood there even more awkwardly in the hall and slid the strap of her shirt back to the top of her shoulder.

* * *

_The dreadful colossus of a starship loomed its dark shadow over the innocent world. A prototype vessel Revan had seen before only once, at the place where the Mandalorians were destroyed. Large uncontrolled bolts of static and electricity fluttered around the edges, coming from the blackened inner openings, wounds born from Mandalorian artillery._

_ Below was a sea of heads all looking up at it. At the bottom in the center, a young woman stood, dressed in Jedi garbs, one Revan did not recognize, but he did recognize the two standing beside her, as well as some of those on their way towards._

_ His heart began to race as his vision faded, color dimmed to black and white. Revan closed his eyes but he could not cover his ears. He heard the screams, high and low pitched screams of life being drained, empty bodies that fell with a thud slapped the ground and his heart began to slow in its beating, too slow…Revan's mouth was open, as if he felt like his entire body would explode from the screams that no one else could hear._

_ The Force was dying, all the energy, all the sentient life that possessed a heartbeat, Revan could feel it…all of it. And he began to feel himself fade away._

"Revan!" Dustil cried. No one knew where he was, and Dustil had no idea what to make of the disturbance in the Force he just witnessed but either Revan had felt it too or the disturbance meant that something happened to him. Obviously the former would be preferred but Dustil knew that if Revan felt the same disturbance, then his pain would be a lot worse than his, something he found hard to imagine.

He almost banged up his shoulders trying to cut corners until he slammed straight into Jace and they both fell down.

"Control yourself, kid…" Jace mouthed as they got up. "What's the matter with you?"

"Where's Revan?"

"Hell if I know…" But before Jace could say more, Dustil was running away again.

His senses and intuition led him to the med bay where he found Revan unconscious and being treated by the docs. Trek was in the room with them.

"Revan! _Revan!_" Dustil went over, but Trek caught his arm.

"Don't touch him. He's alive."

"What the fuck is going on!"

"Beats the hell out of me…" Dustil gave Trek an odd look. "One minute I'm giving him an update on Sith activities in the Crispin System, the next minute the man's on the floor with a bloody nose and drool coming out of his mouth."

"Did you feel anything?"

"I felt some aches and pains…nothing permanent. Myrther had the same reaction. What happened to you?"

Dustil looked down to where Trek's eyes were narrowed to see that more blood had exited his nose and was becoming a red stain at the top of his shirt right around where the collars were. It must have been triggered when he slammed into Jace.

"You felt that disturbance a lot more than we did." Trek might have been stating the obvious but Dustil had no idea what to make of it.

"Is he going to make it?"

"He should come to in a few hours," said the doctor. "I could probably use Cassandra's help right now. Dustil left to go get her.

* * *

"You really think torture is going to make me tell you what I don't know?" Yuthura lied. At this very moment, she was traveling faster than light on a ship that belonged to a cold band of mercenaries. There was a time she might have felt right at home with them, but the problem was her hands and legs were bound to a chair and the side of her face had a few fresh cuts on it from physical punishment.

"Don't make me beg," said the mercenary. "Just understand this. As number two on the Sith's most wanted list, you're worth quite a bit of money. However, my client is paying me even more to extract something else. Now, we know that this individual is a familiar face to you. Give me answers and I'll let you go." The man held up a security camera photo of Dustil Onasi.

"Sure, you'll let me go straight out the airlock. Who's your client?"

"A particularly angry individual who really wants to get his hands on that kid..." Yuthura was surprised at the merc's willingness to tell her that, considering how much power he theoretically had over her. He must have been quite confident in his own abilities to get stuff done.

"Alright," said Yuthura trying unsuccessfully to shrug her shoulders. "His name is Dustil Onasi, powerful protégé of the Force and powerful underground connections."

The merc twisted his face. "Oh please, you look like someone capable of withstanding a lot more interrogation. Do you really expect me to believe all that? You're lying your ass off!"

Yuthura shared a laugh with the merc. "Okay, you're right. I am lying." She paused for a moment. "Say…what happened to the knife on your belt?"

The merc looked down to see the knife pouch open and the blade missing. As he looked back at Yuthura, she had already sprung from her chair and kicked him straight in the head, knocking him unconscious. The knife was in her hand, a small but sharp blade that had only the fragments of nylon on it from the cutting of the rope. Within seconds, that same knife possessed the blood of all six other dead mercenaries on the ship, their throats cut one by one, leaving only the incompetent interrogator alive and unconscious, now on the other end of his favorite room. After once again littering deep space with the blood ridden bodies and doing enough space walking and metal detecting to ensure that there were no tracking devices on the outside or inside of the ship, Yuthura turned it around.

* * *

Dantooine was well known to be peaceful but that was back when the Jedi were around to keep it that way. With the Jedi Enclave in ruins and the two wealthiest estates around them now turned into settlements, the place was more uneasy. Although even when the Jedi were around things were not perfect. Mandalorian raiders often preyed on the farmers. Kath hounds and Iriaz roamed freely and sometimes even attacked settlers. The biggest difference now was that instead of Mandalorian raiders there were armed mercenaries and salvaging teams. Each group looked out for their own and all of them experienced the kath hound problems. The whole thing disgusted Juhani.

She had just exited the ruins of the Jedi Enclave. There wasn't much to find. She had the look of a dangerous tomb raider about her but she kept her lightsaber well concealed. The bounty on Jedi was getting higher and higher and although Juhani didn't have a problem with it yet, it would be best to keep it that way. She got the feeling that the people around here didn't like Jedi anyway.

She had heard a few rumors though. She had received word a week ago that there would be a massive Jedi gathering on Katarr. Juhani smelled a rat immediately for two reasons. Considering what had happened just a couple years ago, Jedi slowly and slowly disappearing or just turning up dead the way they did, she knew marks of assassins when she saw them. While she had been wrong about her initial assessment, that the Sith were targeting members of Revan's crew, the steps she took to hide kept her alive. There were at least two previous occasions where Juhani felt a little spooked. Ever since the incident with that Mandalorian slaver and murderer Xor, she realized that just because she was a Jedi in the Order it didn't mean that there wouldn't be people out there that would try and capture or kill her. Just because she was a little paranoid didn't mean that she was wrong about it. The other reason was because the information came to her on an open channel and it was as if the sender was either too lazy to secure it privately or that it was meant for the public to see it too so they would think that Jedi are acting. Either way, it was a mistake.

The disturbance created from last night hurt like hell. Juhani had just been sleeping peaceably in her ship when she felt like her body was on fire. It was an even worse feeling than when she felt her Master Quatra actually die.

Then there was that other rumor that a Jedi Master was around. She could tell people around really hated Jedi for various reasons, some of which were probably not wrong, so she simply didn't inquire about it.

There was nothing to see. She had come here because she had heard about the mercenary problem here and it piqued her curiosity. Also she had nothing on what Rese had told her. She still wasn't sure if she believed him but as a Jedi in hiding she still felt obligated to check it out. Conspiracies against governments are often picked up at the lowest of levels. If there even was one, looking at certain anomalies like here or in the junkyards of Ord Mantell would be the best places to start. Since she had already been there and found nothing that looked even the slightly suspicious, she came here.

Juhani was a more practical Jedi than most others. It was probably one of the biggest reasons she remained alive. Having tasted the dark side of the Force before, she had seen the uglier side of herself and thus she could see the ugly sides of others. She had also figured out that meditation just didn't work for her. If she did it, it would just be to relax and ease off the stress. She doubted meditation would help anyone in her kind of situation. Channeling the Force into and out of the body like that would do nothing except get the Sith's attention.

But this means that she also couldn't rely on it to help her figure out just what Rese was talking about. She had used him for information before. He was a good contact for a general update on current events. He had a stable job and family and now he was scared out of his mind. The other reason Juhani came here was because even without meditation Dantooine was a decent place to start looking for something she had no knowledge of.

Juhani had spoken nary a word to anyone. She was barely seen and those who saw her didn't think to look twice. She was just another potential settler or farmer. She carried herself with enough peace in the fields that even the kath hounds didn't bother with her. If she were lucky they wouldn't even remember that she was here.

It was time to leave. She had already risked enough by spending just half an hour in the tomb. Someone else was bound to come by and the last thing she needed was someone snooping around querying her business. She would leave in the morning and track down Rese. The man hadn't told her everything, and Juhani knew that it would take a face to face meeting to get him to talk.

* * *

Hours passed; the doctor had clearly underestimated the degree that the disturbance had hit Revan, but what was to be expected from a medical officer who did not understand the Force? All they knew was that Revan was stable and that he would probably have something to say as soon as he woke up. As anxious as everyone was, Trek kept them away from the medical chamber. Dustil was the most anxious of them all, poking his head in the door every twenty minutes to see if he was awake only to see Trek once again shake his head. He found a real distraction once Yuthura came home on a strange little ship. Upon her orders the small cargo vessel was to be stripped of its identity and mounted with enough light and heavy weapons to orbit Darth Malak. Jace practically dragged Dustil to work with him but Dustil was eventually glad that he did it. In the meantime they filled Yuthura in on what happened and she too admitted that she felt a disturbance though not nearly as hard as it hit either Revan or Dustil.

After getting some rest, Yuthura summoned Dustil away from that project yet again. Dustil was getting a little irritated; at a time in which he really wanted some answers he was getting jerked around.

"Trust me, this will be better anyway," said Yuthura. "If he doesn't cooperate you can go werewolf on his ass."

"Why not Jace? That kid's done more interrogations than I have… not to mention he was on the other end when we first met him."

"Because the man was looking for you."

Before Dustil could ask more questions, Yuthura slid her card and opened the door to the interrogation chamber where the man she had taken prisoner was still sitting unconscious. Dustil entered but she remained outside. As soon as Dustil woke him up, the bright lights came on and glared a white haze in his face that took him a minute to see again.

Dustil was staring at the mercenary leader. The leader would recognize him eventually but Dustil was struggling what to say. Yuthura put him in a tough spot but if he could handle nine hours of battery from Trek he could certainly handle this. He slicked his hair up and back to make sure his face would be seen. "You know there are better ways to look for me than take my friend hostage on board your ship. She's very angry at you." Dustil looked out the one way mirror but he knew Yuthura was giving him a nasty look that he couldn't see. "My name is Dustil Onasi. I'm a protégé of the Force and I have strong underground connections." Yuthura started laughing but neither Dustil nor the prisoner could hear it.

"What do you want?" The man seemed like he took forever to put those words together.

"I want what Yuthura wanted. Who's your client?" The man hesitated but even he himself knew that he wasn't cut out to withstand the interrogation that he was cut out to give. Dustil sensed this and pounced. "If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll have to rip your thumbnail out. And the reason you don't see a pair of pliers on my belt is because I don't need them to do it." His words were a little forced but he made them as sharp as he could. He didn't want to do it, but he needed an answer and there were only two people with enough charisma to talk him out of doing that. One of them was several light years away doing Admiral-type things. The other was in a coma. Dustil could not have felt more attached to this simple little task. With an extra intimidating push, he said, "Answer my question."

"Shark…Sharkraw hired me." The man was much too quick to answer, which Dustil was suspicious of, but the man motioned with his head to check the pocket of his jacket. Dustil did it and pulled out the picture of him. The picture had Dustil's face clearly showing but also his hand-craft armor that he had used to infiltrate the Sith compound on Lazoris.

Now the man had evidence, proof that he was in fact looking for Dustil and proof that the apprentice hired him. Dustil might have suspected a mere bounty but then he remembered that he stole the Apprentice's speeder boat – an insult that Sharkraw would not easily forget. Not only did he steal it but he also drove it off a waterfall. Dustil took a moment to digest the information and then turned back to the man.

"Thank you for the information. While I have been trained and raised to show mercy, I'm afraid that the scenario dictates that I cannot do that. Know that there is no shame and no dishonor in your death. It shall be quick and clean. May the Force take you to a better place."

The man had to know that it was coming but in no way was he ready for it. He gritted his teeth and twitched in fear but Dustil's expression remained calm as he placed himself behind the chair. He took a gauntlet out, leaving the other attached to his belt. It fit tight and comfortably into his hand and he fastened it on. He knelt down, placing the front knuckles of his closed gauntlet-covered fist against the chair. With his other hand he cupped the man's jaw and pulled his head back gently. "Close your eyes."

The man did as he was told and Dustil let him breathe his final two breaths before an assassination blade stuck out of the gauntlet and ripped through the chair into the man's heart. The man twitched his way into death but Dustil held him still.

"Your speech is getting a little old," Yuthura stated as Dustil came out, leaving the body to the men outside preparing for a respectful cremation.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but Revan's orders were clear. We can neither afford prisoners nor to be compromised in any way."

"It just sounds pitiful…like you're making excuses. Drop the speech and just kill the bastard already…"

"Easy for you to say; you've got a reputation for being ruthless. I don't."

Yuthura ordered Dustil to take a break for a few hours and then return. When he did, he came to the newly upgraded ship to discover at their astonishment that it was nearly complete – that the final pieces of metal were being fused and secured with the electronic wiring already complete. Diagnostics and testing were about to begin but Jace was no longer there. Due to the more advanced technology that Jace had finally gotten a chance to add on, he required that it be tested from his lab, requesting as well the presence of Yuthura and Dustil to be there at the same time. This information came at them so quickly Dustil hardly had a chance to gaze at the new vessel that he might very well get a chance to fly. Yuthura had far too many things on her mind to check out its beauty but she nonetheless complied just to speed up the process.

One fingerprint, eye, and voice scan later brought Dustil and Yuthura into the monolithic labyrinth of computer and data analysis technology that was built solely and completely by their friend Jace Myrther. Dustil remembered when all he had was an empty cave and a box of scraps. Even though he had been in the lab countless times, he was thoroughly convinced that he could still get lost in it and the only thing he could possibly be competent at in such a facility would be catastrophic destruction. As such, he did not touch anything except the most basic of machines. The toaster was fair game.

This was how the new Kraxis Rebellion, meager in manpower as it was, could actually extend its invisible eyes across the galaxy and monitor the Sith. This was where the intel came from; it was how the rebellion could shield their presence and it was also how the rebellion was able to survive. Its power generator, furnaces, regulators and standard life support systems all came from Jace and his little toolbox. Even Trek, had to be amazed by what this kid could do. Though he would never mention it, Trek privately mentioned to Revan at one point that he would wager that there might even be rebellions in the future that wouldn't be as high-tech as this. If it was on a snowy planet, they'd be lucky to have their power generator inside and shielded the way it was on this ice world.

A warm drink in a fresh glass popped into his hand as he came in. Yuthura got the same treatment and she drained the whole thing in one gulp.

"I thought you'd want to see this personally," said Jace, sitting in his rotating and levitating chair. Dustil and Yuthura stood behind them but stools popped up right where their asses were, allowing them to sit and watch the big screen, displaying the ship and the now open hanger. Though most everything was done through touch screen, Jace in some cases preferred the more manual process of typing commands, and this was exactly what he had in mind for the weapon test. He plugged in his new console that featured an exact replica of the basic control panel that was in the cockpit of the new ship.

"What's that big button with a red skull on it?" Dustil pointed at it. To his astonishment, Jace did not whack away his finger.

"That would be the deployment of a tactical nuclear strike…"

"What makes you so sure I wouldn't have pressed it already?"

"It doesn't matter because we didn't arm the ship with a nuke…"

"But I thought the radiation chambers…" Yuthura butted in.

"They do…" interjected Jace. "But this not just the gunboat you think it is. Observe…" He pushed two buttons and the weapons that were stuck out on angle of the ship were immediately collapsed into their compartments with the regular metal plate of armor going over it. With the exception of the laser guns on the wings, this ship was civilian transport.

"If only you could close the wings, this ship would look like one big escape pod," Dustil commented.

"Way ahead of you." Jace pushed another button that did exactly that.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this little one man science contest," Yuthura said. "But what exactly is the point of this war machine?"

"An excellent question. You brought us more than just information about the men hunting Dustil." Dustil couldn't be surprised that Jace already knew the information. "This baby is a gift. All this tech that I've been building up – it wasn't compatible with the other snub vessels we had, and though I tried modifying it to work, it didn't prove too effective.

"This little ship, we substituted some of the cargo space to modify it with the weapons it would need to make it a one man army. Recon and interception would be its primary functions – stealthy in its movements, combat capabilities and the wingless mode is for crash lands. This little button right here deploys a parachute from the rear that slows it down if it gets tagged. She's our new wingless angel."

"Sounds like you've just given her a name," said Yuthura. "_Wingless Angel_. I like it."

"Me too," replied Jace. "Fast as a lightning bolt, but unfortunately its shield strength isn't all that special, so you'll need a damn good pilot to fly one of these things. I sure as hell couldn't do it."

"But I can…" said Dustil and Jace nodded.

"But you won't, until we deem it flyable. I wanted to show Yuthura the progress we've made, but Dustil – I have something for you." Dustil's eyes opened a bit as Jace snapped his fingers and a small helper droid came down with a small box. "I figured those little pinprick blades you've got sticking out your wrist are no weapon for a warrior like yourself. Even if you get yourself a new lightsaber, I designed these especially for you." Dustil opened the box.

"New gauntlets?" They looked the same as the old ones but Dustil knew that looks were deceiving.

"You might want to take a step back as you put them on." Dustil did so and then flexed his fist the same way he did to make the assassin's blade shoot out the old ones. Only this time, instead of a sharp metal pencil eager to breach the skin of an unlucky individual, out came two short yellow and white lightsaber blades in a duel _snap-hiss_. Dustil jerked his head back as if he thought the blades were going to go straight through his face. At the angle they were facing, they weren't, but the element of shock was still there. Dustil stuck the other one on and did the same. With gloves that fit perfectly into his hands like a jigsaw puzzle, he now had four short blades activated in front like straight claws. Its blade retreat mechanism was also designed the same way.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Dustil said. "First a ship, and then new blades?"

"You're an animal kiddo…so to speak. Besides, you needed a new lightsaber. All I had were the emitter and crystals of your old one."

"My new weapon of choice…I think I'm going hunting."

* * *

It had now been over a day since Revan's collapse. Trek had stood by his side almost the whole time and yet there was almost nothing to keep him there.

"I know you can hear me," he said. "I can feel the beat of your heart slowly increasing. Your eyes are still shut but I can see a wince in your eyelids. I'm no doctor, but it feels like the Force is returning to you as if it had somehow been temporarily scared away. You're going to be alright Revan.

"In the time I have spent under your command, I have learned a lot; much of you, much of the Force, and much of myself. This is your rebellion, even more now than it ever was mine. I just have to believe that in spite of everything that has happened, and all the seemingly insignificant tasks, there is still a plan, and that you have yet to fight your last battle."

Trek could see Revan wince again. His words were being registered. This was not going to be any kind of long dramatic coma period. Revan was alive and they knew that beneath all the pain, all the suffering that he felt, all the air that seemed to escape his body, Revan was thinking, and Revan had a plan.

A few moments later Trek was no longer alone in standing next to Revan. Dustil, Cassandra, and Jace were there too. They watched his eyes breathe escape behind the closed lids until they finally snapped open. Revan awoke to the faces above him and before trying to shove away the pounding headache, he smiled.

"Welcome back," said Trek.

"You certainly were missed," said Dustil. "Tell me you've got something."

"I do," said Revan. "But you're not going to like it."

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	5. Chapter 5: Going Home

**Part I**

**Reemergence

* * *

Chapter 5  
**

**Going Home

* * *

**

"_I'm not really a people person." – _Jace Myrther

_"Sounds like the Force operates like a retarded child…"_

_ "No; retarded implies slow and disabled," corrected Revan. "The Force is merely flawed in the same way we all are. The difference is that its relationship with us does not achieve the kind of balance that it actually wants – the will of the Force is something that must sustain itself through conflict. And we as subjects of the Force are the ones who engage in it."_

_ "I see…" Dustil wanted more and Revan was prepared to throw a bone._

_ "I know what you're thinking – what do the Sith have to do with this? Are they not just one non-righteous side in the overall non-righteous war?" Revan guessed it exactly and Dustil nodded in agreement._

"_What I'm trying to tell you is that the Force has its own problems, but the True Sith, in their own savagery and mastery of the dark side have the ability to manipulate events themselves as they see fit; the Force will never be able to achieve balance so long as they exist. If you can summon the will to break free of the bonds the Force has placed upon you, you will unlock a kind of potential that you never dreamed of. That's the potential Uthar Wynn saw in you. Power achieved through understanding a new kind of relationship between you and the Force by which the reigns pass to you. You make your choices free of influence and rise above the will of others – free from the bonds of light and dark._

"_This is not something you need years of meditation to understand – this is the truth as I learned and know. A truth you must have the stomach to digest and a truth you need to realize so that you can take the next step. Your own personal truth will not be the same as mine, even I cannot predict the effects it will have on you, but you will be stronger for it. That much I guarantee…"

* * *

_

Dustil arrived about twenty seconds late for the meeting and to his dismay found the group already in a lively discussion. It took him a while to figure out what had been decided before he could relax and immerse.

"The math and the timing doesn't make sense to me," said Jace. "I mean…it's not like you can just jump start a rebellion once again. We're nowhere near the operational level that we were before."

"We declared rebellion years ago," said Trek, making as much use of the comforts Jace's lab had to offer. Part of it was to piss Myrther off, but Trek had quite the dry throat at this time. "We've just been underground and inoperative."

"A metaphor for being dead…which we are."

"Enough," interjected Revan in a forceful tone. It had been a day since he had awoke and despite how much he wanted to be left alone so he could continue formulating his thoughts, everyone wanted an answer. It was easier shutting them up when he was a Sith – all he had to do was slice off a jaw.

"Well what do you have in mind?" said Jace, sounding more eager than the others were used to seeing him be.

"It's not as simple as just acting upon a Force disturbance. The problem is that if we went back to our normal slow and steady duties of strength through secrecy with the occasional disruption after months of planning, in the long run our deceased status will become a reality. Am I correct to presume that you felt it as well?" They all nodded, although Dustil's nod was much more rapid, causing Revan to turn to him. "Well?"

"You tell me," Dustil said defensively. "I don't know what it was I saw. To me, it felt like someone I knew was just killed, but not my father – a Jedi…girl I think. I don't know."

"Not one Jedi," answered Revan. "All of them."

The room was silent. Everyone but Trek gave Revan simultaneous looks of confusion. Trek didn't really know what a Jedi was; he just knew a few of them who could command the Force almost as well as him…and he knew one who was better.

Revan eyed everyone in the room individually. They sat silently as if they were in a classroom and the teacher told them that someone had done something wrong. They wanted to hear more from him but they were still trying to take it in. Revan wondered if there really was any formulaic way to break news like this to someone.

This was not to say that he wasn't saddened by it. Vandar was definitely the hardest felt death. Zhar and Dorak were dead too, and the less than one hundred Jedi that remained after the war against Malak was reduced to almost no one.

Not only that, but there was an entire race of Force-sensitives that were gone as well. Revan recognized the landscape as Katarr, having trained there once under Lena. He hadn't come into that much contact with the Miraluka but he knew of them. They were a blind species but they saw through the Force. He never met them because he had no use for them. Kreia had taught him all the tricks to see through the Force. Revan wondered for a moment if she was alive. He didn't feel her death, but her mere age could devour her at any time and Revan might not even feel it. The loss of the Miraluka was just as devastating as the Jedi.

The reason Revan and Dustil felt it the worst was because they were the strongest in tune with the Force. Being above the will was a blessing and a curse; the Force was in its essence, life. The collective feelings and emotions of all sentient beings unified into a will – that will was to fix the rather human flaws of the Force. Revan's will was stronger, and now so was Dustil's. But that was a constant battle in the mind, different than simply light and dark. No matter what, he was still connected to the Force, and the connection was strong. Thus he felt what the Force felt – death.

Disturbances were something Revan had forgotten. He flashed back to the moment he reunited with Lena. Her level of duress caused his nose to bleed. But the news could have been worse. There was at least one Jedi who had not died amongst them. If she did, that very well may have killed him too.

Yuthura was the first to break the silence. "That's not possible." She knew it wasn't true, but she really just wished that it was.

"No way," stated Dustil not believing _that_ was the disturbance he felt. "I mean maybe a few but…"

"Almost a hundred," corrected Revan. "I know what I saw. Unless you know this Jedi extremely well, one death isn't nearly enough to render you comatose for thirty hours."

"I could see it," Jace said rather mellow. His willingness to accept Revan's conclusion that quickly baffled Dustil, but Jace explained it. He took bad news well. "The death of my teacher and everyone else…that disturbance threw me off my bike and into a tree."

"What about that girl?" asked Trek, addressing Revan. "The one Zazz mentioned to piss you off; the one you're bonded to or something."

"Bastila?" answered Dustil.

"Yeah, her."

"She's alive," said Revan, taking care not to show how relieved of that fact he really was. "But that makes me all the more worried. The stakes have just been raised. I didn't want to consider too heavily the usefulness of the Jedi and the Republic, but now that the Jedi are all but extinct, that requires a whole new angle, something I haven't entirely worked out yet because I wasn't prepared."

"What exactly would you have us do?" said Yuthura. Like a secretary feeling as if she was rushed on time, she wanted an answer because there were other duties to attend to.

"I don't care if the math or logistics don't work out right now," Revan asserted. "This rebellion needs to get moving again. We've run out of leisure buildup time. We'll have to proceed with caution but we have no choice but to make a move." Revan eyed Trek. They had discussed parts of this in private before but Revan didn't want the others to know, which he had made clear before. This was something he was going to have to sell to them.

On cue Trek said, "What are we going to do for money? I hope you have something more subtle in mind than holding up a bank or a liquor store."

Revan didn't anticipate the chiding jab but he went on anyway. "What about your frozen accounts?"

"That money's long gone," replied Trek. "If a frozen set of personal assets within the empire cannot be claimed by a recipient of a person's will in one standard year, it goes straight to the Sith themselves. I'm dead, my family is dead; they have that money now. I didn't try to seize it because posing as a member of my own long lost family would have been suicide. The Sith knew me too well."

Revan cursed to himself but loud enough so they could all hear it. "That doesn't run us dry of options," he said. "Myrther, you ever hear about the guy who got caught laundering over a million credits that he had been slowly stealing from his old company over a period of thirty years?" Jace nodded. "Can you do that without the laundry, the interception, and inertia?"

"I think so. You want a hidden viral money leech that breaks up the smallest currency by the fraction and funnels it into our own account. I'd have to play it safe – break up those funds even further while on the transfer to move through multiple nodes so that no one can ever track it. Plus I'd have to do it for at least three different accounts if we're going to get the kind of funds my calculator says we need. Might take about a week provided that's the only thing I work on but I could do it. I'd just need to know the specific details of these banking procedures from Trek."

Trek nodded. "I'll give you the information. You just make sure it works and you don't get caught."

"If I got caught, then it wouldn't work," snapped Jace. "The only problem I see with this is that if we do that, the amount of money piling up in one account more and more and more will eventually get attention. High volume accounts take a lot of computer energy to save. It's easy to track bandwidth if it's consistent and always high. And splitting the money from that account into some separate ones will help but will eventually become irrelevant.

"That's fine," said Revan. "I've got some ideas for how we can spend it. Just make it happen." That was the cue for everyone to shut up because Revan wanted to move on. "When that money starts flying into our hands, we're going to need to spend it on people. That's the biggest challenge. Running around the galaxy looking for the oppressed and the vengeful so we can save their lives and turn them to our cause isn't fast enough. We need mercenaries."

Yuthura wanted to protest this one. As a businesswoman herself, she knew a lot of financial tricks and as such had a strong distrust for mercenaries no matter how polite or how honorable the reputation. Both Revan and Trek knew she would and Trek interjected on Revan's behalf before she could say anything. "I agree. And I know how and where we can get them. They don't come cheap but I guess the more money we spend on them the better."

"Not sure that's a good idea," Yuthura got her word in. "If they even find a shred of evidence to suggest that the two men hiring them were the most wanted and valuable fugitives by the Sith that were confirmed dead years ago, they will betray us in a heartbeat."

Revan had to admit that was a good point. It was a chance they were going to have to take but he had another plan that would help fix that problem.

"We'll need to keep them on a short leash," said Trek. "Having Myrther around might help."

"I'm not really a people person…" protested Jace.

"Gee I wonder why."

Archie Saww, who had remained silent for a while finally put in his opinion. "You pay these mercs generously enough and they won't ask questions." Yuthura still wanted to protest but she knew Archie's report was credible. He was one of them once and he still knew how to speak their language. Unbeknownst to her that also fit into Revan's plan.

"I don't want just merc commandos though," said Revan. "We need pilots, engine operators, and computer analysts. I want a handsomely waged skeleton crew with no reservations about fighting against the Sith."

"A skeleton crew?" Jace asked. "Even if this money comes in record numbers, the prospect of buying a large dreadnought vessel of our own is not something we could possibly consider for…"

"Who said anything about buying it?" Trek asked.

"We've stolen ships before," said Archie. "We just need to pick one and figure out a vantage point. And we'll need more than one commando unit."

"I've already got one in mind," said Revan. He pulled up a screen that pointed to the Sith orbital space station over Kraxis. "See that ship?" He pointed to a large vessel docked with the station. "That ship has been under repair for the last three months. If they proceed on schedule the full repair should be completed in three weeks. That's when we'll take it."

The next few minutes were spent working out the logistics of how they would do it. Jace kept quiet and merely fooled with his personal computer to figure out potential models and designs for the virus he was going to engineer. Might as well get a head start while he could; they were expecting him to be a miracle worker. What else was new?

"So then what?" Yuthura said. "We get that ship and then we lift up this entire rebellion on it and get flying again? Try to recreate the fleet Trek had?"

"Absolutely not," said Revan. His tone was almost resonating ridicule to the point where even Trek looked at him puzzled. "But we are leaving these ice caverns. Jace's generator will remain and it will be a hideout we can use later on but it will be abandoned and without a trace."

"So, we're moving?" Dustil pointed to the obvious.

"Yes," Revan nodded impatiently. "This rebellion is going home to Kraxis. Once we have the ship, Captain Archie Saww, First Lieutenant Cassandra Vesta, and you Myrther will with the help of the skeleton crew, the commando units, and a few select rebels who already possess the expertise, take to the stars and operate alone, keeping regularly in contact with the rest of us." Dustil wasn't sure what to make of this. Cassandra wasn't in the room with them, but her status would be elevated quite a bit along with a large burden of responsibility. Also Revan had deliberately left him out of that name list. Did he plan to separate the two?

"Meanwhile," Revan continued. "Yuthura and I will stay on Kraxis with the rest of the rebels to cause some even further upsets against the Sith and provoke a bit more of their attention." Revan looked over to Yuthura again. "Yuthura, I know what you are thinking and I understand the dangers of dividing our forces. Part of the reason this plan is going to work is because you'll be on Kraxis, which will serve as a major distraction. We'll discuss that more later."

Dustil had to say something. "Alright…what about me?"

The meeting was over and Revan saw no reason to keep it going. He adjourned it but told Dustil to stay put. When everyone had gone, he gave his apprentice the attention he clearly needed. "Speak your mind, son."

"You don't want me with you on Kraxis and you don't want me on the ship with Trek. Just where exactly do you want me?"

Revan felt the need to test Dustil for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

"Come on…" Dustil rolled his eyes. "You even threw in Cassandra's name for assignments to the ship and she's not even here. You didn't mention me in your plan at all. So what's on your mind, Revan?"

Dustil didn't mean the offense and Revan didn't take it as that. He had told Dustil long ago to never address him as 'master'. "Dustil I am giving you the _Wingless Angel_. When we're finished talking, brief Yuthura on what I told you and make sure you confirm that it's flyable and ready for action."

Dustil liked the sound of that, but he did have one question. "Why not Jace? Isn't he the expert?"

"Myrther has his hands busy with that virus," Revan reminded him.

"So what do you want me to do? Go back to Lazoris and press that button with the red skull?"

Revan was surprisingly humored by that, but that was not his intention. "You're going back to the Republic."

Dustil stopped his pacing. "Why?"

"Two reasons: One, you'll be safe from the True Sith. Two…"

"But I don't want to run from them," Dustil protested. "I want to kick their ass until my foot starts to bleed."

"All in due time, Apprentice," said Revan. He chose his words carefully – Dustil never liked to be called that name but he understood that Revan was serious and would not rescind his order. "For now, you cannot be here. We will remain in contact so you can update us, but for the fight itself at this very moment, I cannot use you because I need you for this."

"What could be more important?" But looking at Revan's face, Dustil already knew. Revan's demeanor was a bit more emotional now – much more concerned for the fate of the Jedi now that there were none of them left. It made Dustil wonder how not a Jedi Revan actually was.

"You're going to find them. After a blow like this, whatever remaining Jedi out there like Bastila will not be easy to find, but you're going to do it anyway. My gut tells me that this fight is eventually going to involve the Republic one way or another, and we're going to need the Jedi to stand with us."

"Do you want me to find out just how they died?"

"This attack has far too coincidental timing to not be the work of the Triumvirate, but I could be wrong," replied Revan. "If you do find out, let us know. You've got an open window on this assignment, so if you need to see Carth, do so at your discretion, but finding and securing the Jedi is the priority. Even though we have safe routes planned, I don't want them risking their hides making a trip out here to join us. I just want them safe and I want them ready. I don't even know how many there are. And whatever you do, do _not_ try to find Darth Nihilus."

Revan had a feeling that might have been a forethought from Dustil. He knew there was only one dark Jedi in the galaxy hungry enough and crazy enough to do it and that was Nihilus. Revan always regretted not killing that shell of a man but at the time he couldn't. "Why?" Dustil asked.

"Because that's going to do nothing but get attention and you need to be as incognito as possible."

Dustil nodded. "If my father is still a Republic Admiral, he'll probably have a lead. What do I tell Bastila if I find her?"

Revan hid his suspicious look before Dustil could see it, and Dustil was already weary of the beat. "You tell her the same thing you tell the other Jedi. A message from Revan: I'm alive and kicking. The True Sith are out there and their patience for our blood is going to reach its end very soon. The galaxy is going to need them; if they're really Jedi, they'll understand."

Dustil thought for a moment. By now they were back in Revan's private chamber, away from the eyes and ears of others and standing face to face. "If they ask questions…how much information do I spill? Cassandra has remarkably accurate sketches of their appearance…"

"Use your judgment, just make sure they're trustworthy. But understand this – a Jedi will attempt to search your mind to find out if you are telling the truth and if you are telling the whole truth. It's a Jedi's way of testing you to figure out if you're genuine. Do not let them near it. Your mind must be strong enough to push them back because if they can get inside your head, their first response will be suspicion, which will not do you any favors. That is your real test, Dustil. It's a test of charisma and it's a test of your willpower. You're going back to familiar territory but from your newfound affinity with the Force, it's going to look a little different. Find the Jedi, and make them understand that this is real. Is that clear?"

Dustil bowed. "When do I leave?"

"As soon as Yuthura clears your new ship for takeoff you can go; take a day or so to get your things straight and figure out what you're going to tell Cassandra – make things right." Dustil nodded and began to turn but Revan stopped him.

"Dustil," Revan's tone changed to lighten the intensity of the room he sensed was beginning to make the boy uncomfortable. "I know I've sprung a lot on you. I know that underneath the armor of confidence, you really doubt your readiness to take this…more diplomatic task on. But I know what I'm doing and I wouldn't put you up to this if I didn't believe you were ready. I want you to know that I do not believe our time as master and apprentice has been a waste. You took the lessons I gave you and adapted them to your own style better than anyone I've ever seen; you made terrible jokes that reminded me of myself back way back when but when the time came for you to break free, you did it. You have proven yourself to me time and time again and your understanding of the Force has turned you into an extremely controlled weapon of mass destruction. I know that when this is all over and the Sith are vanquished, you will continue to do great things for this galaxy."

Dustil hadn't heard this before; Revan was stone cold. His armor was always on even when it wasn't. The best compliments he received were simple 'attaboys', no speeches of flattery. But Revan meant what he said. Revan's confidence in him was intimidating to say the last. He knew a lot and he could use it all, but no matter how much he could absorb there was always more to learn. There was always something he could be doing better. He had just learned a raw technique that turned him into a creature of ferocity but only after about six hours of constant physical battery. Dustil needed more practice, but how was he going to get it without the rest of them?

"Shake off the distracting thoughts," Revan said with a smile. "Because there is one more thing I have for you. A gift, something I'm proud to give up and it's going to make your journey that much more fun."

The _snap-hiss_ proved Dustil's guess right but his astonishment persisted when he saw the color of the blade. "I don't think that's very appropriate considering what we are..."

"This is no ordinary red lightsaber," said Revan in a fairly predictable fashion. "This is the same energy blade that brought death to the Mandalorians, Republic soldiers, and Jedi Knights. This blade nearly killed me twice by the hands of its original host. Care to take a guess?"

"Darth Malak." Revan nodded. "You're giving me Darth Malak's lightsaber?"

"Your loyalty and dedication to the Force gave you success in the same place that Malak met failure. By achieving understanding and unlocking doors to the higher mysteries you have surpassed many of the greats already, and that earns you this. But the other reason is because it is a warning. Our freedom is not permanent, should we let our power take over us we can still succumb to the will of the Force and even worse the will of the dark side. I want you to have this lightsaber as a material reminder of the looming shadow that will always remain. Use it well."

Revan gave the lightsaber to Dustil and the boy danced a classic Form V – Shien with the blade like he had not wielded one in years – which in fact was true because his original lightsaber was destroyed. Revan was even more impressed now, especially because he did not anticipate that Dustil would hold it in reverse grip.

"Besides," Revan thought to add. "I know Myrther gave you those dual glove blades; thought I'd make your life even more interesting by giving you a fifth."

Some last minute housekeeping words followed up by a friendly embrace that Revan made sure he gave in the same gesture Lena did for him had Dustil leave in a fairly happy mood. Dustil knew that breaking it to Cassandra would not be easy but he knew it would not be the end for them and when it came to a career, she was moving on to bigger and better things just as he was.

"I wish I could go with you," she said. "I've wanted to see your home ever since you described it to me."

"You're needed more here. I'm going to procrastinate as much as I can on leaving. I don't like to leave it like this." Dustil knew he was skirting around it, and he knew that Cassandra was on the verge of begging for him to say it.

He loved her more than he ever thought possible, but his doubts and reservations had always prevailed. It had not taken Cassandra long to admit the reciprocated feelings she had for him. Given Dustil's past, she understood his concerns because he took it very seriously. But a year of physical and emotional intimacy with him made her understand just the kind of man that he was, and she knew that Dustil was not one to stay committed if he didn't think it was working out. So she had been patient.

"I know what you want me to say," he said as he brushed his hand through the silk of her hair. A deep inhale caused her luscious scent to enter his nose. "And I know that it would be better if I said it on my own time when I felt ready. But I'm a bit of a coward in that way." She giggled, but Dustil went on. "I fell in love with you not long after you celebrated my birthday with us, and long before you started flying for the Rebellion. In spite of everything that's happened, you've kept my spirits high and you've made me the happiest man in this galaxy. I was so scared to admit it, but I realized that the confidence I needed to tell you how I really felt came from you in the first place." He could tell that Cassandra was getting happier as he spoke, but there are only so many ways one can express love through words. He pulled her into a kiss and from the passion of the moment, he dimmed the lights with the Force and they slowly fell into the warmth of the bed.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Cavix Sharkraw sat on his mini throne enjoying what remained of his self-inflated status of power. The situation had not changed much since Dustil had hit the facility and while they cleared out the dummy virus that Myrther had created to hide their true intentions, all the filters showed their systems clean – just the way Myrther liked it.

Sharkraw had cleared the room for a visitor he was expecting at this time.

The man entered the room and faced the Grand Apprentice. He did not bow and he did not have even the slightest expression of humility in his face. He knew just precisely who he was facing but the man never acted like he was very impressed. Little things like that always influenced contracts even if people thought they didn't and when it came to contracts, the price for his services was nothing the Grand Apprentice of the True Sith could not afford but still remarkably high.

For a professional he certainly did not look like one. Clean brown clothes with the look of age and abuse, a black trench coat that let him pack a disassembled rifle without being noticed and a very visible gun holster with a personally modified hand-gun inside described his appearance. His somewhat olive skin and slick jet black hair were actually natural.

"I see you favor the old Flemin model," said Sharkraw, hinting at the man's rifle.

"Good eye."

"Thank you for your speedy arrival. My name is…"

"Cavix Sharkraw," the man finished his sentence, hinting that he hadn't the time for small talk. He didn't even fear saying the Apprentice's first name. "Call me Dutch. You got a bounty for me to hunt?"

"A particularly elusive bounty," said Sharkraw, adjusting to the rushed and serious tone of the man. Sharkraw already knew that they were probably not going to get along, but that did not mean that they could not do business. It was not a wise idea to try stick measuring with him because the man was too valuable to his goal and had no interest or time for it. "Team of amateurs had a lead, followed up blindly on that lead and it got them killed."

"That's the trouble with hiring amateurs to do a pro's job."

"No doubt," agreed Sharkraw. He didn't like the fact that this bounty hunter had just given him a verbal jab but he gritted his shiny teeth in a fickle smile. "Now, normally I pay pending results…"

"You pay me half now and half then, you won't have to worry about not getting results."

"Here's his picture," Sharkraw handed the picture of Dustil to him. "Don't be deceived; he's older than he looks."

The bounty hunter ignored that last remark, looking at the details. "This picture does me no good; I need a close-up of his face."

"I'll have a data picture sent to your ship." The bounty hunter nodded in agreement. "Given as you have done work for us before, I trust I need not remind you of the consequences of failure."

"Don't waste your breath," Dutch said, unimpressed with the Grand Apprentice's attempts to boost himself up. "I'm no soldier for the Sith and I ain't your friend. I'm not doing this for you; in fact, I could care less what this little toddler did to waste you an entire team of idiots tracking him down. Pay me what you owe and you'll get what you want."

Hiding how irked he really was, Sharkraw nodded. "Deal."

* * *

It had taken two weeks for the Kraxis Rebellion to get moving on Operation Skeleton Crew and nine days to engineer the virus. Myrther took the Sith fighter they still had and travelled to seven separate banks across the corporate sector of the Unknown Regions. Averst Station was one of them, where he also picked up some more intel on Gunthamore and MCA. The rebels had not forgotten about him or his treachery but the time to deal with him was not now.

Instead, Myrther planted a virus at the Averst Station computer vault that did precisely what they wanted, funneling extremely small fractions of bonds through over two dozen different nodes before finally colluding them into three separate accounts, one which would be controlled by him, another which would act as the official money pit for the Rebellion, and the last which would be a joint account under Archie's name but for Yuthura. The cyber transfers would take nanoseconds and thanks to the security firewalls by default, that money would be untraceable and never missed. He did the same to five other corporate station computer vaults just like it. Upon his return, he finally was able to take off his business suit, which he was not at all used to wearing. Checking the accounts only a day later, the rebellion already had bonds in the tens of thousands and they kept coming.

It wasn't enough money to hire enough mercs to fly a ship just yet, but it was enough to make a faithful down payment along with the promise of more to come. With Dustil heading out, Revan didn't want to waste much time with this. It would be likely that the Apprentice's search for Dustil might be stonewalled by more pressing priorities of unrest and chaos in certain places. And with the rebel's need to build up further, the ball needed to get rolling.

Recon teams that scouted the very new orbital station that circled Kraxis reported back that while it was not so much a checkpoint for patrolling Sith fleets, there was always a ship or two that came in every few days, smaller dreadnaught class vessels that traveled solo. According to the scouts, that large vessel docked in repair was nearly complete.

Despite their dark sided eugenic intentions, the Sith were much less political than the Republic. It would be a waste of fuel to send an entire fleet to do a job that one ship can do by itself and if it was at the request of one of their own to help with some trouble, one ship was more than appropriate, unless they were hunting something like the late Kraxis Rebellion. The political appearances did not concern the Sith because part of their goal was to elude the curiosity of their subjects and keep their presence and the strings they pulled as hidden as possible.

Archie Saww was skilled enough in rhetoric and merc talk to present a fair case so long as he had the finances to back it up. With the money virus bringing in revenue like clockwork, Archie came down to the surface of Kraxis and ventured through taverns across the world. A lone captain of a ship looking for people to help him steer was exactly what he was. Due to the perceived lack of demand for mercenaries in the present times, Revan had planned for Archie to take about a week to get it done. Archie had the recruiting numbers in four days, each one was psychologically examined by Jace and he gave the approval. "_More of a diplomat than I'd ever could be_," Revan thought of Captain Saww.

These mercenaries took the job because of the money but also because of the promise of anonymity. None had a resounding hatred for the Sith because for all they cared, the Sith were just another potential buyer. The psychological examination was to make sure none of them were already under a Sith contract of any kind. By that point a down-payment of five thousand bonds had been deposited into all of their accounts.

Revan knew that Kraxis was a better place to operate and Trek knew enough of the underground networks to stay hidden from the Sith. Where they would go from there was up to Revan. All in all the two weeks had gone without incident.

The inside of the _Outrider_ could not be more uncomfortable at this moment but thankfully it was only for a few minutes that they would remain in the ship before docking with the station.

"So which one of us gets first mate?" one mercenary found the balls to say what everyone was thinking.

"None of you," said Archie. "My first mate is at the helm. Give 'em a wave Vesta." Cassandra complied and the mercs mumbled various thoughts about her. "Not important," Archie continued. "You're to stay focused on the mission. As soon as we're safely back into space on the bigger vessel, ya'll can check your new account balances."

Cassandra alerted them that they were to be docking with the station in but a few minutes. It was not uncommon for ships to dock with the station, and stations like this one were specifically designed to have an air of hospitality in them. That hospitality of course would come at the expense of a steep docking fee, high fuel prices, inspections and ship repair, and other services like that.

But this was a Sith controlled station. If men were to start pouring out of the ramp in large numbers dressed the way most of these mercs were dressed, there would be hell to pay and Archie knew it. The _Outrider_ had been modified with several escape pods, not enough for every merc, but enough for most of them in their giant space suits. Every escape pod is built with a boarding feature but very few are designed for stealth. While they are not manually flyable, Jace had given these escape pods highly specific instructions.

The pods were launched, their stealth inhibitors activated immediately, headed for the big ship parked on the other side of the station. The mercs inside prayed that no one would look out the window too many times.

Cassandra docked the _Outrider_ at the assigned by where she dropped Archie off along with two others that were to accompany him. Dressed in casual clothing, they made their way through the station. When Cassandra activated the automatic turbolasers to open up on the reinforced windows of the station, security finally woke up to see their new problem. With their teams headed for Cassandra, Archie and the bands of mercs eluded them and reigned havoc on the unexpected soldiers inside the dreadnought. The boarding parties were able to unlock the ship and allow Archie and his mates to walk right through the main door. They also opened the emptiest docking bay for Cassandra to park the _Outrider_.

When the security forces in the station were redirected to the main ship, it was still too late to stop it. The remaining soldiers of the Sith were blocked from the armory and then hunted to extinction. Those that surrendered were taken to the brig to be held just until the battle was over so that they could be tossed out the airlock later, Amicus Trek style.

The final team of mercs took control of the guns on the ship. As soon as the ship was fully detached from the station, they had but a small window of opportunity to destroy the station. The _Outrider_ and its turbolasers had been able to dent a few spots here and there but that was nothing compared to the punch that the dreadnought could pack. The guns opened up on the station and reigned fire. Archie stood at the helm and ordered a slow turnaround portside, and the missiles to be fired at the most vulnerable points on the station. The only point he didn't touch was the retro-rocket system. He expected those would activate to keep the station in orbit but that was good. Collateral damage from the station crashing into the planet like an asteroid was not part of the plan. It would need to be a billion little shards.

It would take more than just simple laser and missile fire to outright kill the station but Archie knew just exactly what this dreadnought was capable of. The station was in utter chaos, its defensive turrets destroyed and many of its power generators exposed. The security there was out of options. As the dreadnought continued to turn, Archie had the afterburners fired up.

When the ship's giant metal ass was facing the station at nearly point blank range, a salvo of torpedoes was released straight for the middle and just as they struck, the ship went into full burn. The torpedoes exploded and their fire spread and multiplied tenfold. The entire orbital station was ripped apart and incinerated while the ship made a clean getaway.

"Saww to command, the _Lone Wolf_ is ours and Kraxis Orbital Station is a pulp. The bunker is set for entry at the coordinates we gave you. We're en route to pick you up."

From the next command came stars becoming starlines and space becoming hyperspace.

* * *

_In another point of the galaxy, far, far away…_

From the blink of a light came a ship out of hyperspace. It just floated idly for a few minutes, the lone pilot taking in the Coruscant System from the view of the cockpit, the death of the planet still just as visible as it was the last time he saw it.

Dustil took a deep breath and clutched the controls to move forward.

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	6. Chapter 6: Political Animals

**Part I**

**Reemergence  
**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Political Animals**

* * *

"_Don't get cute with me…" _– Bastila Shan

It had been three years since the loyal smuggler vessel had been disposed of. Following the defeat of the Kraxis Rebellion, Yuthura Ban had taken it back to the Republic and left it in the capable hands of T3-M4, left to glide unnoticed across the galaxy. Without the proper tools to repair HK-47, it had been shut down and locked away inside the ship – the _Ebon Hawk_.

Unbeknownst to Revan, T3-M4 had an assignment should it ever find itself back in the galaxy with Revan unable to return home. Thanks to Bastila Shan's secret programming, the droid was to seek her out, and if it could not find her, then to find other Jedi. A seemingly impossible task for a droid and no matter how hard it tried, Bastila could not be found.

But only now did it actually achieve some marginal success. T3-M4 had the ship gliding through empty space and the one other individual was the closest thing to a Jedi it could have found. An old woman, conservatively dressed and her physically blind eyes covered by her hood. She spoke nary a word to the machine but moved with a purpose and T3-M4 had seen enough Force users to know how to spot one.

Kreia sat in the port dormitory of the ship, away from the distracting noise of the engine and kept to herself, her presence so quiet, even T3-M4 wouldn't be able to hear her unless it tried. The _Ebon Hawk_ continued to make its way through the galaxy, just as it had before.

The warning shot flared green over the screen of the cockpit that got the astromech droid's attention immediately. Three more followed, and the message was clear – slow down and let the more heavily armed warship board it, steal your cargo, rape your women, and laugh at you're helplessness. Analysis confirmed that theory for T3-M4. It was a Sith warship that was trailing them, coming out of nowhere and hailing no signal or immediate tractor beam.

With a full minute of no response, the next few shots came straight to the hull, bounced away by the deflector shields that were put up just in time. The droid had the ship accelerated and checked again to make sure that the navicomputer was safe. It was.

The _Ebon Hawk_ was fast but without a more complete crew it was a sitting duck compared to the warship in pursuit. But a glimmer of hope appeared and T3-M4 acted upon it. A green dot, distant but close enough to appear on the edge of the radar.

Upon reflex, the distress signal was launched.

* * *

_In his private chambers on Coruscant…_

"Authenticity code required," the annoying feminine machine told him. Liam Arcturus punched in the numbers and waited impatiently until he had the attention of the shadowy figure of the boss whose name he still didn't know.

"How can I help you, Senator?" the scrambled voice demanded.

"I trust you've seen the recent headlines," Arcturus sounded annoyed and his boss knew exactly why.

"I did…a rather ugly pot you stirred up."

"Don't put that on me," Arcturus barked. "You wanted me to reach out a bipartisan hand to Kerrigan and that's exactly what I did. Knowing the woman, I had my reservations but you believed that she would be energetic about being part of a process in the Oversight Committee about a bill that would crack down on corruption. Instead she balked at the notion and pulled out all the stops on her sharp tongue. Being in the minority is hard enough to do without some whelp in the majority making an ass out of me."

"You certainly didn't help yourself when you stooped to her level. Why are you making such a fuss? Your ratings haven't dropped; most of your constituents think Kerrigan is just a hack with nice curves."

Arcturus was getting more and more irritated by the condescension. "I don't like having her as an enemy."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I'm an inch away from telling you and your little shadow operation to go to hell. And because my name is not officially tied to any of it, I can even have you investigated if I wish."

"With the help of an extremely enthusiastic majority that is more than willing to heighten investigations within the government they control, right?" Arcturus wasn't sure if his boss was mocking him but his anger didn't let up.

"You're missing the point," he said. "If yet another fight in the political headlines was what you wanted, then you got it, but I don't appreciate the deception especially to me. You know I can start a fight and fight one."

"No deception intended Senator. I trusted you to do what you had to do and you did."

"Trust me enough to tell me your name?" The silent reply gave Arcturus his answer. "Didn't think so."

"There is much work ahead of us. Your latest earmark set did the trick and we're getting some good results but we have more work to be done. I know it seems like trivial duties to you but believe me, it's better that way." His boss disconnected and Arcturus sighed in disappointment.

What he had no idea of was that several kilometers away, Senator Kerrigan was having a very similar conversation with this very same unknown individual that had such a gentle yet terrifying tone of voice.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

With the ID signature Jace was able to forge to match the _Wingless Angel_, Dustil was able to find and contact the military headquarters with relative ease.

"No I don't have a landing permit; my name is Dustil Onasi and I'm trying to reach…"

"We have a strict new policy involving newcomers. I just need to know by your word that you are willing and able to purchase a Republic landing permit for this area. Our fares are reasonable but…"

"But I've been here before!" Dustil protested even though he knew it was of no use.

A few more minutes of argument got Dustil to eventually just give in and promise to buy a permit. Not the best way to begin his trip back to the galaxy but what the hell? He was back and eager to see his father.

Bastila was in her office taking a short break from work with some meditation. She had been doing this for quite some time now but her job dictated that she could get interrupted at any time, which is exactly what happened.

She answered her comm. the usual way. "Yes?"

"Excuse me, Miss Shan…"

"Shaila, how many times do I have to tell you? Please call me Bastila."

"Sorry…" the receptionist had her usual cute nervous voice as she was still young and new. "Excuse me Bastila, I'm unable to reach the Admiral. Word came to me that he has a visitor just arriving…another Onasi?"

Bastila did a double take. She paused for a moment until she had to confirm that she was still there. "Is his name Dustil…by any chance?"

"Umm, let me check…yes. That's the name he had. He's just landing now. Is the Admiral in his office?"

Bastila was shuffling quickly through her papers to try and find the schedule, which determined that Carth had a meeting that was just ending at the moment. But her thoughts were racing even faster than she was shuffling. What she was going to ask next, the receptionist wouldn't understand but if Bastila's hunch was correct, it was a favor she would absolutely have to ask.

"Shaila…I need a favor. Who else have you told about this?"

"No one yet."

"I need you to keep it that way. If Carth calls and asks my whereabouts, I need you to cover for me."

"But…why?"

"Just trust me," said Bastila. "For now, just make sure Carth doesn't know that his son is here."

Shaila wanted to protest but Bastila knew she wouldn't as soon as she hung up and bolted from her office. She didn't even care to ask where Dustil had landed. The Force gave her a good enough prediction.

Dustil walked off the _Wingless Angel_ to find a protocol droid with the papers he needed to fill out and sign. He had to smile – it was the first time he had seen a Republic protocol droid in forever. So many things looking around he only now realized that he missed in the past few years. It took him a few minutes to finish and then he inquired as to the whereabouts of his father. Intel about the whereabouts of the Admiral was mid level classified so instead they pointed him in the direction of Carth's office.

The soldier guided him to the monorail station and Dustil waited a while for the train to come, which Bastila was on. As the train came to a stop, Bastila was about to get off, but she saw a figure with hair long enough to look like a woman but she knew it was a man from his more brawly and masculine body structure and he was dressed enough like a casual Jedi to garner her attention. He boarded the train, and Bastila moved quietly towards him, keeping him only in her peripheral sights.

But as hard as she tried, she couldn't get a reading from him. She glanced back in his direction but then turned full front when she didn't see him there. She threw her head all around the train trying to spot him until she felt a tap on her shoulder. There was Dustil Onasi standing right behind her.

"I didn't expect to find a Jedi here," he said with a smirk.

"Dustil Onasi," said Bastila. "You don't know me but…"

"I know who you are. But I have to say, I hardly recognized you without that yellow-brown outfit Revan told me about."

The straight-forwardness of Dustil caught Bastila way off guard. She had been planning to get him and seize control immediately because when it came to Carth, which she figured Dustil was there to find, she had the upper hand in knowledge. But Dustil's last comments sparked her interest even further and now she really needed a private meeting with him, and away from Carth.

The reasons seemed very basic, but Bastila understood them a lot more than probably any Jedi would have. Admiral Onasi was a political animal. That might appear irrelevant but there was more to it than that. Carth was never happy to become more and more politically involved but it was a responsibility that had come with the rank of Admiral, the rank in which he would really be able to make positive changes in the Republic's military strength. Carth hadn't forgotten why he needed to do it; he hadn't forgotten what Revan told him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing that would keep him going – the only thing that would keep him from becoming worse than the corrupt politicians in the Senate.

But now Carth was a political animal and the political hawks would be watching him. Politicians had always pissed him off, no matter what side of the political spectrum they belonged to. Dodonna had made him understand this and he knew that with the Liberal Party in charge, there were going to be certain politicians that would make even that pompous ass Conservative Siv Tarkin look noble. The bureaucratic machine was of the hacks, by the hacks, and worst of all for the hacks.

Bureaucracy was a fascinating thing but Carth found none of it appealing because as far as he was concerned it was just a big cluster of competing and conflicting interests and financial powers all getting in each other's way and hindering real progress. The military arm of the Republic was not very strong and for the last five years, the budget had been getting axed slowly but surely. The military was always something that hacks could go to town on, calling in hearings whenever they wished and tearing the high command a new one as they saw fit. Anything could be used – bleeding hearts were notorious for spinning things a certain way in order to label them as atrocities and look for an excuse to cut that part of the budget even further. The bureaucratic structure was their way of putting their so-called "progressive" attitudes into action for whatever naive sense of self-righteousness they had. Their hearts were often in the right place but the result of what they did made Carth's job even more difficult and if there was any real reason that the Republic military was getting weaker, it was because of that.

Since the tension of his hearings they were eyeing him. They were hacks with the eyes and claws of hawks and Dustil's sudden appearance becoming public was certain to be a political liability. Bastila was the one person in the entire galaxy who knew all of this and understood all of this perfectly.

"Now comes the long lost son of Admiral Onasi," said Bastila, after leading him to the dark corner of the cantina and stealing two stools from the bar. "You need to understand, your father is under incredible stress. He's a Rear Admiral Lower Half with the responsibilities of a Grade 1 Fleet Admiral."

"And they don't promote him to that rank because…?"

"It's not in the budget to give him or any of us a raise."

"Sheesh, he keeps this up, by the time he gets to that rank, he'll have the responsibilities of a Supreme Chancellor," Dustil joked, still clearly not understanding what Bastila was trying to tell him.

"The point is, Dustil…I can't let you see him."

"I'm not looking to stay with him or anything like that; I just want to say hi and tell him that I'm doing well for myself."

"If he sees you, he won't let you leave until you give him answers."

"What do I have to answer for?"

"Oh, I don't know… how about the fact that very few of us even know you exist! Carth cannot afford to be made into an even bigger celebrity than he already is now. It's just not politically plausible!"

"Revan told me you were stubborn…" That last comment made her tense a bit. Bastila tried giving Dustil a curious but innocent look but it wasn't fooling him. "I suppose that if I tried any harder to see him, you'd draw your lightsaber on me, right?"

Bastila didn't know how to answer that. While she certainly didn't want to start a fight, her job being what it was and all, she simply couldn't let him through despite her compassion. It was a forced compassion at best. Bastila wasn't much of a family girl. Dustil wanted to see his father and it had been a long time. If Carth was there, he'd want to see Dustil too, but Carth would do more because Carth would want and need answers. Even a whiff of it gets out and they would be dealing with the press and the political sharks. So little knowledge existed about Dustil, all sides would prove problematic. Even the conservative minority who all stood behind Carth would have to turn the cheek and enough investigations would be launched to uncover the real problem with Dustil's past. They didn't actually care for Carth; they just wanted to show others that they cared about the military and were looking out for its best interests. Carth was a hero.

The hearing for Carth's promotion had been hard enough; but if politicians knew that Carth had an orphan son who was a Sith? Dustil Onasi – the brash young bastard child of Carth Onasi, abandoned by his father and left to die on Telos when Malak destroyed it, and then a top student of the Korriban Academy for years, now resurfaced after a rigorous cover-up to hide his identity had taken place. This would be how the story would come out.

This would explode a hidden powder keg that had no buildup. Politicians would be running for cover and distancing themselves from Onasi. Dodonna would have no choice but to fire Carth; his reputation would be tarnished and the entire galaxy would have a whole new way to see their Admiral celebrity.

Bastila had tried her best to explain this to him but it wasn't working. All she could do was change the subject. "What else…" she hesitated. "…did Revan tell you?"

Now Dustil wasn't so sure as to whether or not he should trust her. Revan had told him that he could, but Bastila clearly didn't like the fact that he just showed up and she was really getting in his way. He still wasn't even sure why she was trying so hard to get answers. What could she possibly want?

"He told me that you two are connected through the Force. He told me that you're the best Jedi he's ever known and that your battle meditation won the war."

"You're lying…"

Dustil smirked. "So I am. What's your point?"

"Don't get cute with me," sneered Bastila, seizing control again. "If you want even a prayer of being able to talk to your father, I'm your best hope. But you need to throw me a bone here. Now please…for the umpteenth time: what is your business here?"

Dustil looked around to make sure no one was watching and then leaned forward. "This information doesn't go anywhere, is that understood?" Bastila nodded. "It's solely because Revan trusts you…that I'm coming to you with this. I came here to see Carth and then look for you, as I intend to look for every other Jedi that survived."

Bastila hesitated to ask the question she really wanted to ask and stuck to business. "What do you know about that?"

"I know that one week ago, a lot of Jedi were murdered at the exact same time. I haven't had a bigger nosebleed since I got shot and electro-fried by the Sith. I need to know who survived and I need to know where to find them." Dustil chose his words carefully but he knew that he was no match for Bastila's diplomacy.

"Who _really_ needs to know?"

It took Dustil a few seconds to understand the real question she was asking. "I can't tell you much. I need to find the Jedi because I have a message for them. The True Sith are out there. Keep to your friends but stay alive; Revan will need you soon."

* * *

The Hammerhead class cruiser soared through space, its white, red, and yellow paint glistening in the blackness. It was large enough to hold about three hundred crewmen and three strike teams of soldiers for boarding, combat ready and fully efficient – the _Harbinger_ was one of the proudest ships in the Republic fleet.

It had just come from Ryloth, the most transport accessible planet in the Outer Rim Territories where the _Harbinger_ was sent to pick up a vital passenger with high diplomatic credentials. The Captain of the vessel had made it very clear to his commanding officer that he was not comfortable with turning the ship into a passenger boat but Admiral Onasi's orders were clear. Not only that, but he was not privy to the information that he was used to receiving about political diplomats he would have to carry. The file of this passenger was top secret extremely classified. No information about her had been made available, only her name, which meant nothing to him. The Captain didn't like it but he followed his orders by the letter. So long as he didn't have to waste too many precious resources on this new passenger, there wouldn't be a problem.

The Captain had to admit it – the passenger had a pretty face. Not that he was interested, merely a fact that everyone and anyone in the crew that saw the woman they were carrying would acknowledge. Passengers never stayed long and the soldiers were far too professional to try and mix business with pleasure in a job like this so they stayed out of her way, but of course that did not stop the wondering eyes.

The passenger was one of the quietest people they had ever seen. Normally diplomats made full use of their ship tours and asked countless questions about operations and made no efforts to conceal their status of political importance. This woman took the tour she was offered, more likely as just a way to stretch her legs and move, and then went back into her private chambers, coming out only to go to the mess hall, where she would sit and eat by herself in the corner.

Katara Fenix kicked her long socks off and slipped into her nightgown before going to bed. These days of travel were boring beyond belief but Fenix kept her mind on the destination – Telos. The truth of her silence was more personal than it was stubbornness. She didn't talk unless she had because the way she saw it, talking led to attachments. She couldn't force a permanent hostile personality on herself so the best method was to snub.

This particular so-called diplomat had many issues with attachment, much different from the usual love and loss without recovery. An action she had taken a decade ago that caused her to lose a bit of herself, and then she was cast aside by the people she turned to for help and understanding; exiled from the Jedi Order to wander the galaxy.

She lay in the bed she enjoyed being unfamiliar with. That was her life now; one transport to the next and one hotel room to the next. Raised and trained as a Jedi Sentinel, survival and stealth were her forte. Her travels were legal so she was not running from anything but even she found it strange that the Republic was so willing to transport her and went through all the trouble to keep her safe. The only thing that was troubling was that she didn't smell a trap.

"Attention all crew, this is your Captain speaking." Fenix's eyes snapped open and did a quick reflexive scan of the room before listening again. "We've received a distress signal from a nearby vessel – stealth smuggler class. We've got urgent permission to investigate so we will be diverting course. I want everyone alert and ready because the distress signal indicates that the ship is under attack by the Sith."

The Exile wanted to just go back to sleep and forget about it but the mentioning of the Sith seemed to touch a nerve. This would not be the first time that she came into intimate contact with the Sith; she had to duck and dodge them far too many times. Something wasn't right.

About a minute later the Exile realized something definitely wasn't right. The boiling blood in her veins hadn't stopped and her mental capacity was deteriorating. She started feeling butterflies in her stomach. Her heart was beating more and more rapidly and she felt tense. So tense, she had trouble standing.

Her mind raced. "_I've been drugged!_" As her consciousness began to slip, she tried to relax with a large breath of air. "_Nothing wrong with the ventilation…must have been something I ate._"

And that was when it hit her that she had made a mistake. Her meal patterns were predictable, far too predictable. Whoever drugged her must have known when to expect that she would be in the mess hall and even better, what she would be eating. Hunters were just that good. Launching an investigation at her condition wouldn't be possible. She gasped for air, clinging to her consciousness for as long as she could, but it was no use.

She dragged herself back to her bed, the temporary paralysis in her legs and limbs increasing more and more. With a final breath, she was out.

* * *

Dustil cursed to himself but Bastila heard it. "Alright fine," he finally said. "Let's say that I just agree with what you're saying even though I don't understand it. Can you at least let me contact my father over a secure channel?"

"No!" Bastila was much too stern for his liking. "There can be no communication between the two of you. However, I will keep you apprised of what he's up to. That's it." Dustil wanted to protest but Bastila cut him off. "I know you desire to see him but you have to understand that if you do seek him out, he won't let you go, at least not as easily as you seem to think. And then, whatever it is you're doing for Revan will be a moot point because Carth will have you under lock and key."

Dustil sighed "I'm still not sure I buy that he'll just imprison me without due process or whatever, but you know him better than I do so I'll go with it. But let me guess…for even this small sticking out of the neck, you need a favor."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "All I know is that I am alive and Juhani is alive. Where to find her, I don't know but I can contact her and give her the message. She will be interested in hearing it. But if you are serious about finding the Jedi, then go to the Jedi Temple. You will find it empty and barren. Raise the beacon but keep the programming to communication only. If Jedi see that they are being summoned, they will suspect a trap and will not take the bait. My guess is that a lot of Jedi still do not understand that the Sith are the ones hunting them. But you need to know that if the Sith show up at the temple, you are on your own."

"And then?"

"Wait to be contacted and then give the message, but you'll have to make the Jedi come to you because finding them by yourself is next to impossible."

"And what part of all this is doing you a favor?"

Bastila pulled out a computer chip. "I want to monitor the Jedi Temple's activity from where I am. Plant this in the security system and activate it. I will be notified when you do it."

Dustil took the chip and looked it over. He nodded in agreement.

"One final question," Bastila paused for a moment. "How is he?"

Dustil wanted to ask why she was asking, especially in the sincere tone that held a pitch of concern in it but he figured it would be best not to piss her off further and just answer the question. "Like I said in the message; he's alive and he'll need you soon."

By now they were back at the monorail station and the train was arriving. Dustil was ready to be on his way to get to the temple, no short journey. The train screeched to a halt and the doors slid open. Dustil stepped inside and before the doors closed Bastila said one final thing.

"I'm glad you were safe. Be careful." Dustil could hear underneath her words a sadness almost imperceptible. He paused for a moment on the tram almost wanting to go back and tell her more of what was going on. But he knew as well that the less she knew right now the better Revan wouldn't want him worrying her more than he had too. Without looking back, Dustil raised his hand and with a slight wave back to her, he vanished into the crowd.

Dustil departed to the Jedi Temple, still unaware of how barren it would actually look. He had only been there once long before and remembered how it was not teeming with life the way the mythology of the Jedi often illustrated it to be. Despite having not been able to see his father, he felt good. He had no reason to think that Bastila was toying with him and a favor like this wouldn't be so unreasonable, especially since the Temple would likely have some leads. Dustil was contemplating scenarios; the most worrisome thing he could think of was how much of a labyrinth the inner structure was. But it wasn't a time trial so he could probably wander the place and if it took him longer than a day, he'd even pitch a tent for all he cared.

If he could put the process in some kind of coherent order, he'd need to figure out what Jedi to look for first. If the Jedi were really as dead as they appeared to be, that most likely meant that the most senior of the masters perished in the attack or whatever it was that happened. From Revan's perspective on the Jedi, a truth that Dustil had less experience with, Jedi Knights were the more reliable people. While the Jedi were about as political as Tarisian rackgouls, they were no strangers to the bureaucratic messes that engulfed the Republic system and made up their own order too. Those who sought the more simplistic Jedi path – Knighthood and perhaps a Padawan or two to train were the ones who had a much more universal sense of the galaxy because instead of sitting on their pompous thrones to decide the future of the Jedi Order, they would be the change they wished to see in the galaxy. If that meant that they had to stick their nosy Jedi nose into a mess that needed solving, then so be it. Revan had never cared for the perception of Jedi the way others did because his beef was with the hierarchy. Class of Jedi did not matter, only the true open-mindedness of the Jedi and how he or she could use their knowledge of the Force to guard peace and justice in the galaxy.

Dustil remembered how much lecturing it took him to really understand Revan's perspective on the Jedi Order. Revan never wanted him to just accept it but this was one of those things that Dustil could not take anything but his master's word for. He harbored no contempt for the Jedi Order, just hatred for the complex power structure they had. A solution was not something Revan contemplated because he simply didn't care enough. The Jedi principles were an excellent foundation of understanding of the Force even if they only told one side of an extremely complicated story and most Jedi Knights were good people whose skills would have to be salvaged if the True Sith were to ultimately be defeated.

But one thing Dustil did not know was the impact Revan had had on Bastila. Talking with Bastila was just like talking to any other Jedi, only it was someone he trusted because of her connections. He did not realize just how isolated a Jedi she had really become because she had not let that on.

And lastly, he knew not of the bombshell impact his conversation with Bastila would have on _her_, that behind her poker face was an emotional tornado.

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	7. Chapter 7: Dutch

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 7  
**

**Dutch**

* * *

"_Awaken…_"

Katara Fenix fell to the floor with a thud, her skimpy half-naked body lying flat and face-planted on the cold metal. Her head reeled from it as she slowly helped herself up. The kolto tank had been programmed to shut down automatically and let her out. She looked behind her to see the tank; it was definitely hers; the only empty one in the room, and her body reeked from the smell of it. She hated that disgusting smell; by the wrinkles at the tip of her fingers she had been in there for at least a day, possibly more. There was no way to tell. Her watch was gone; it would not have survived the kolto tank but she really wished she had it to get herself reoriented.

A quick check of her own body and she was alright. She had no idea where the outfit came from. She was showing more skin than a twi'lek dancer and she had no idea where to find her real clothes. Anger over that could wait at least until she could find someone to tell her just what the hell had happened. Her condition must have been stabilized before the tank; before the blackout she remembered the nausea and the haziness of her vision. But it had been some time since then; the first thing she could tell was that this place was not the _Harbinger_. That ship didn't have a room like this; its own medical bay was like two rooms separated by half a wall between. The only thing that would have made this room more round would be a dome ceiling.

There was one door in front of it; she doubted it would be open. She was wrong. The door slid to the sides and she gingerly passed on through. A few hacking maneuvers on the computer to her left opened up all the doors except the one she wanted – the next one over. Instead she went into the morgue on the other side. A chilled breeze bit at her flesh just before she entered and found two bodies inside. An old woman covered in thick robes and a hood covering her eyes and some other guy; a plasma torch lay next to him.

The torch was like a zombie lever; the moment she picked it up the old woman behind her was on her feet. Fenix almost swore in shock as she turned to face her.

"Find what you're looking for amongst the dead?" said Kreia.

Fenix hesitated for a bit, trying to generate something witty. "Depends…you got a lock-pick under that giant blanket gown of yours?"

Kreia bore no expression, which worried Fenix a bit. The woman had sprung like a cat straight off that bed as if she had been waiting for her to show up, or even scarier…if she was behind her being there.

* * *

The _Lone Wolf_ had launched from Kraxis earlier than schedule. The departure pleasantries had been exchanged and Amicus Trek was now back in the tunnels of outer space with Archie Saww, Cassandra, Jace, and the rest of the hired merc skeleton crew and commando teams. The actual rebel combat forces stayed on the ground with Revan and Yuthura. The time for reemergence had finally arrived.

As Revan looked at Trek's design for the new base, he realized that he was actually going to miss them. Trek was still both the fiery leader of men and the pugnacious hammer wielder who never sent his men on a suicide mission unless he was with them every step of the way. Trek had a greater mastery of the dark side of the Force than Darth Malak, and yet despite what Revan thought all too often, it never took over. The True Sith had trained him too well for that. Needless to say, without him, the rebellion would never have come this far.

Then there was Archie Saww. Revan had never seen a more daring and independently thinking man. The man never settled down and after thirty six years of age and ever much the seductive bachelor, he was still in the best shape of his life. Revan thought of him as a younger and scar-free version of Canderous Ordo.

If only HK-47 had not been so badly damaged, there was so much to do, so many people to kill and maim. If that droid was here now it would beg to be on that ship with Trek. Revan hoped it was okay…not only that, Revan hoped T3-M4 and the _Ebon Hawk_ were okay. When it would come time to finally reveal himself to the Sith, he was going to need all of them.

There was so much to do, so much planning to happen. Despite the slow buildup in the past three years, somehow it seemed that the possibilities were endless. His plan was sound so far, now he had to himself improvise and make good on his end if they were going to succeed in chewing their way to the top of the Sith food chain.

Jace had done well and once again never seemed to find any sleep. Before leaving he made sure that the central hub of the new rebel network he designed would be in Revan's hands. He would be able to communicate freely with the _Lone Wolf_ and any other ship the rebels would commandeer could be synced to it. The access codes were in two places – Revan's office, and Jace Myrther's head. Other than that, there wasn't much innovation that needed to be done. All the security and computer stations had been created and were home. It would still take a little while to fully adjust and work out all the kinks but that could come later.

The new Kraxis Rebel base was located beneath a large surface bunker two kilometers east of a major industrial city and several hundred miles away from the capital. There were suburban areas that were connected by basic roads and highways but this base wasn't near any of them. Between the industrial city and the bunker was a narrow but extremely deep river so long, it nearly connected the poles. There was a connecting bridge that led towards the city on an old dirt road. The river was calm where the bridge was, but it was volatile elsewhere and along it much further north was the capital city.

The bunker was now an old war memorial from the last time the Sith sent a full military brigade to their doorstep centuries ago. The bridge over the river was a weakly funded structure but it did the trick. There were almost never any tourist trips to the bunker. The government, much to the behest of the Sith, had been highly restrictive about it.

However it was the hollow underground area beneath the bunker that had been of interest to Revan. Trek knew about it for a long time, having once been sheltered there by a group of hopeless disgruntled citizens that he eventually turned into well armed insurrection agents that was the birth of his rebellion. He had been adamant to Revan that they use this bunker but in the time that had passed, Revan thought it would have been too risky so he declined. Now that things had changed, the wisdom of this move was much more apparent. He would be closer to the people and could actually make a difference. He could attract attention and if worse came to worst, it was not a terrible place to hold off an attack. The trick was that they wouldn't actually use the bunker.

If Revan could set some of his ideas in motion, ideally he wouldn't have to use the capital city. The city of Lamborgia was, like Coruscant, a bit too political. The True Sith controlled a significant percentage of stock in every large industrial enterprise on the planet as well as the ears of a few willing to indulge them if it helped. There would be too much of a mess there and it wasn't even that concentrated with Sith anyway. They were fairly easy to see to anyone who bothered to look, much like the rest of civilization in the inner rim of planets the Sith directly controlled. But tactfully and habitually the Sith continued to work in the shadows as much as possible, controlling interest groups and transferring money under the table.

People on Kraxis were used to a kind of occupational but free and easygoing lifestyle that often built up tension between them and the Sith. It didn't lead to flat out rebellion all the time because the people weren't stupid enough not to bow before them. It had been ages since the Sith invaded but the people of Kraxis remembered it well, like it was a trademark of the planet's exceptional nature. And it was by all standards an exception.

Kraxis was a goldmine in its economic worth. Its high standard of society made it costly to do business here, but well worth it for those who could afford it, and even more worth it for those who couldn't but had the potential. It had almost every resource imaginable to offer, with potential in both heavy industry as well as in agriculture, but unlike the Sith home world's moon Azarith – the other giant supply cash on a rock in this galaxy, humans lived on Kraxis first. Sith control or no, it was theirs for the taking.

For centuries and even in the present, it had been free market enterprise that had made Kraxis the prosperous world that it was. However, that did not entirely go on its own. The Sith had been incredibly smart in their handling of Kraxis, making sure that basic market solutions kept the economy flowing well and prevented large booms from turning into large busts. But to deal with these people with such long and acute memories, it wasn't enough to just not be around for people to see and they had to make it look like they didn't control anything. The success of the previous Grand Sires of the Sith to control the situation was the reason they were plotting to do it to the rest of the galaxy. They had kept regulations strong on banks and insurance companies with the guarantee of a safety net in case they went under. They had even capped air emissions and taxed virtually every commodity separately. That however, was mostly their own government's doing. The real plan for the Sith was to get the people of Kraxis to turn against its own government and perceive them as the real threat. Ideally the people would ask the Sith for help against them but they planned for that not happening.

But the _Lone Wolf_ had more immediate problems and Revan told them to take appropriate but cautionary measures. Since the destruction of the space station over Kraxis, some of the new crewmembers had been taken aback by the fact that this was actually a guerilla rebellion. They wanted out. Trek didn't like it but the contracts said that they could leave any time, no questions asked. The _Wolf_ needed some replacements on the crew so whatever operations they were planning would have to wait.

If he was to fight them, Revan would have to be equally cunning and farsighted. It was most likely for the best that Dustil was away. He wouldn't understand it, but more importantly someone was gunning for him, and if Revan's instincts were right, the boy might not be able to handle it.

* * *

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. First Fenix was hearing cryptic voices; next thing she knew she was knocking mining droids on their backside without touching them. She didn't want it. It had been so long, she hadn't forgotten the signs but she really wanted to.

Something had just taken hold of her. Kreia wasn't there; she was sitting her lazy old but very much alive ass back in the morgue. But it was as if she was right beside her, whispering into her ear. Next thing she knew, the locked door in front of her just opened and all the mining droids were down before Fenix could blink. Then she heard Kreia again, telling her not to turn away but to embrace it. Just to get rid of that annoying voice she caved just this once but something told her that voice would still be there and if anything, might become even more audible.

"_Damn it…_" Fenix wasn't happy thinking about it. This was the Force. What ridiculous timing it had. She was enjoying herself in Exile, her current life not very interesting – just the way she liked it. Then all of a sudden she was given a free ride on board a Republic hammerhead cruiser like a princess, until she was poisoned and then woke up in this place. Too many coincidences; first the Force takes her somewhere and now it crawls back into her skin. Then there's this mysterious woman Kreia who knows far too much about her. And now there was another man in her sights.

In her fit of rage, more droids had fallen at the next door and she was finally in a place that might at least give her the luxury of letting her know just where in the hell she was. Now she was looking at the holding cells, facing a man in a cage whose eyes were not looking at hers and it was just a little too creepy.

"_You have nothing to fear from this one. He may be of use._" Strange choice of words, as if Kreia thought the man could be manipulated. But now the man was pissing her off again. Neither of them had even said anything and she was noticing that the man was difficult to read. The only reading she could get from him was that the tiny bulge in his pants.

"Nice outfit," he said with a charming smirk. "You miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?"

"Keep those eyes up and tell me who you are." Fenix was in absolutely no mood for games.

"Atton…Atton Rand; excuse me for not shaking hands. The field only causes mild electrical burns."

"What is this place?"

Atton laughed. "You mean you didn't come here on purpose? I'm shocked…I really am. This slice of paradise is the Peragus Mining Facility, the only supplier of shipping-grade fuel to this corner of the galaxy. Fuel plays havoc with engines but it gets the job done. Just mind the toxic byproducts and the fact that sometimes mining causes explosions. This place is one giant minefield…"

"Alright chatterbox, shut up. I've got more questions."

* * *

The bounty hunter was cleared for landing and he proceeded to dock on Averst Station. The ship he was flying wasn't his. Despite most assumptions, it was unwise for bounty hunters to possess their own spacecraft, especially bounty hunters of high status and credibility. Good bounty hunters hunted good targets and good targets would see a bounty hunter coming if he or she always used a personal spacecraft. The best of the bounty hunters were the ones that were simply able to get from A to B without leaving a trail or getting sniffed in advance. As such, the ship he was flying was now being returned to its rightful owners after a successful rent.

His being here was no accident. Sharkraw had a high level contact on the station, one who transmitted information of recent events, newsflash or not, but especially things that the Sith were interested in keeping low profile. Sharkraw cared nothing for those procedures; he wanted the job done by any means necessary and Dutch understood that. He had received word from that contact that the new orbital space station above Kraxis had just been hit by a terrorist attack and blown to bits. Reports indicated that one ship was responsible but Dutch had a hard time believing that. Still, he could be wrong and it mattered little to him. All it told him was that someone with some serious balls was causing the Sith some mayhem and that was as close as he could get to a lead on this "boy".

If it was indeed a ship, then space stations were optimal targets. He didn't want to go straight to Kraxis – Dutch was direct and confrontational by nature but he wasn't about to just visit the scene of the crime, not until he knew the relevance. Instead he came here, a place he didn't think would be the likeliest next target for someone looking for trouble, but a good hub for information nonetheless.

Meeting with the contact on the station helped only a little bit, and Dutch wasn't sure if he wanted to stay put for a bit or move on. That was the trouble with hunting a target he didn't know. He was now looking at the very small file, in a private bank booth – and the photo matched.

"_Dustil Onasi: once a crewmember of smuggler's vessel Ebon Hawk…captained by Jack Raven Kerr, most likely an alias, and known associates Lena Verado and Yuthura Ban._" He recognized the last name, the number two on the list of the Sith's most wanted. Was Onasi not the target, Yuthura would have made a great bounty and he would jump at the challenge, provided of course that the fee was as unreasonably steep as it could be. When he asked the contact – P.Y.J. Gunthamore for the information, the contact grinningly complied.

While Gunthamore was for a long time a freelancer who had made money being the middleman for anyone with the contacts to guarantee the success of any kind of job no matter how delicate, the Grand Sire himself had approached him after the Sith confirmed that Revan visited Gunthamore. There they struck a deal where he would assign Revan a simple cargo theft operation where the Sith could wait for him and intercept. From that point on Gunthamore's duties shifted solely to doing the bidding of the Sith, a task he had done quite well for very well pay.

Now he was helping Dutch locate Dustil Onasi. Gunthamore had confessed to meeting the boy only once but at the time he was just another part of Revan's crew. He had no insight as to what happened to him, something he couldn't help but to apologize for several times.

Dutch liked to read the file out loud to himself when he thought no one was looking. It was not the safest task but things made more sense when he could hear himself sort it out. "_Jack Raven Kerr, alias for Revan. Wanted for conspiracy to undermine the sovereignty of the government…associated with Amicus Trek and the Kraxis Rebellion…killed in action about three years ago at Mengskin. Lena Verado same associates and same "crimes", captured by the Sith at Tryton, killed in action on Phroz III._"

Dutch hated jumping to conclusions but from his guess, this Onasi kid somehow eluded the Sith after they destroyed Trek and the rebels and then went underground, with the urge to enact revenge. That was a good lead, but it wasn't of any consolation to Dutch. Those out for revenge were unpredictable and there was no way to tell how calculating or erratic they really were. Dutch liked to get to know his targets, this wasn't enough. The file on the _Ebon Hawk_ showed a number of legitimate cargo and personnel smuggling undertakings and then rogue status. It was also listed as KIA, which means there was no sense looking for that ship because the boy probably had a different one.

However there was only one name that appeared on the list more than once – by the name of Ardao on the planet Ursayam. Nothing in Ardao's file was of any use to him other than the fact that the man was a wealthy client – a self-made multi-billionaire. Perhaps Ardao would know a thing or two about Dustil Onasi.

"Attention Averst Station," the announcer came on the air. "Special treat of the Sanz Brothers – happy hour begins early today, starting on the hour. We hope you enjoy yourselves, and be careful flying home."

A quick drink would set his thoughts straight. Dutch went into the restroom and changed to business attire and went into the lowest class bar he could find. That was a basic psychological trick to be left alone – dress like he belongs in a slow food restaurant and act like he's got better things to do than partake in their stupid conversations. Good way to guarantee some privacy in this business, and it was also a way to keep an eye on everyone else. This was an extremely intensive corporate setting he was in; having not been there in some time it was better to dress the part rather than stick out.

When he got to the bar he ordered a beer and continued perusing over the files in a small table near the corner.

The bar was full of activity, a lot more than Dutch expected but something caught his eye. He was accustomed to seeing recruitment for pirate ships and merc teams, but he had never seen anyone promise such a high pay for such a seemingly basic job, and especially not right up front before the recruitment started. Salaries were generally negotiated in this business but no one would ever negotiate against a wage like this. By simple math, a few months working this job – crewman or soldier on an independent dreadnaught vessel would buy you a house and harem on Lipus Tan.

Clearly that meant there was more to this job than met the eye, and it was under no recognized sponsorship. By all accounts, the smart move would be to walk away and never look back, jobs like this tended to be a one way ticket. But Dutch had a different feeling about this one. It was at least worth checking out. After using a basic alias and filling out the paperwork, he was moved to another room with a moderate handful of other men, all just like him, only dressed differently.

"What are you supposed to be?" one of them asked. Clearly this man had a little much to drink and Dutch ignored him. "You look like a rat in a tie." When Dutch didn't even give a peripheral glance, the man persisted placing a hand on Dutch's shoulder. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, shiny shoes." Dutch's hand twitched over his holster, ready.

"Enough," said another man coming in. He was dressed like a diplomat, which to Dutch meant that he was probably the captain of the vessel.

Archie Saww glanced over at the tipsy degenerate and ordered security to escort him out. "Welcome to the _Lone Wolf_. I'm the Captain, and don't bother asking my name because you won't be getting it. While you will not know my name, understand that if you filled out an alias we will find out who you really are but we won't hold it against you. Our records will be confidential, upon the promise that you treat the job and all the information that comes with it as the same." Archie went into basic outlines of the duties on the specific ship and as usual it was the boring part. Just a big ship with a skeleton crew might explain why the pledged salary was so damn high. Dutch could tell that the real meat was coming.

"This job is as politically one-sided as it gets and if that discourages some of you, feel free to exit through the door on the left; we won't hold that against you either. The enemy is the Sith, and our job is to make them bleed. The job is violent and we will be constantly on the move. I suppose you could call us a rebellion like those Kraxis boys but should you take this job, you will be under non-binding contract and we make good on our payments. That's right, the price tag for your services on us is real. We may or may not have participated in recent events that stirred up Sith anger in their comfort zone. That information is classified, as will be many parts to this job.

"Last but not least, we have a Force sensitive on this here cruiser. That means if there's a rat to be smelled, it will be smelled, and it will be squashed. If you worked for the Sith in the past, that ain't a problem, but should we find out you still work for them now, your funds get pulled and the airlock pulls you."

Dutch might as well have just heard "Dustil Onasi is on board this ship, hint-hint," even though he didn't want to just assume that to be the case. He had never gotten this lucky on a job that actually seemed like it would pose a challenge. And this was nothing short of luck – something never to be taken for granted in this line of work.

Bounty hunting had its rich rewards and its thrill of the hunt but by basic standards it was detective work. That meant following up on leads, eyeing the scene, studying the target, and a whole lot of reading. It required the kind of patience very few people possessed and it would drive a Sith ballistic. Dutch was good at it but the reason was not luck, which provided enough discomfort to make his skin crawl. Still, this was a chance he had to take, it seemed far to coincidental.

When everything was settled, the _Lone Wolf_ departed Averst Station fully staffed and fully operational. Once the ship hit hyperspace, there was no turning back.

* * *

_Please review our story._

_Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	8. Chapter 8: Target Acquired

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Target Acquired**

* * *

"_Violence and seduction? That's not your style."_ – Dutch

Jace could not have been more sweaty and overworked as he was right now. Not that it was a remedial task he hated doing but technology took its toll. Three days had passed since the pickup on Averst Station and Jace constantly told Cassandra to keep putting off the tech orientation and she was getting annoyed. It simply couldn't be helped. Reconfiguring his computers and devices and instruments took time; it didn't matter how accurate his calculations were or how smart the computers themselves were. Jace did things manually because that was truly the only way he could guarantee workable results.

It was a standard procedure for the crew to get acquainted, especially with the tech operator – the guy who would probably be their best friend on the ship. Unfortunately that was the part that Jace didn't like. He kept to himself and if someone needed help, he'd give it but that was it. He wasn't looking for a friend. He had enough of those already and it wasn't in him to actively seek them. While life would simply not be worth living without them, the pain of loss that Jace still remembered from Trogan made him a more abrasive and malcontented kind of overworked operator, when he wasn't being the quiet and extremely passive kind of overworked operator. Working so hard all the time was the only way to keep his mind off his own troubles.

There had hardly been a day that had gone by where he didn't think about Master Quatra or his fellow Jedi apprentices. Jace was older than most of them by a year or so and he was discovered at a much younger year than most of them. As a result, his training was more independent from them but that didn't stop him from lending a hand. He hadn't been happy like that in quite a while but for some reason it just didn't matter as much to him. Shaila was always the most interesting fellow student to him. He wasn't sure how he actually felt about her but he remembered watching her practice her techniques again and again. When it came to natural talent, she wasn't among the top but her diligence and her dedication more than made up for it. That was why she was able to clash with even Master Quatra sometimes and hold her ground. Jace had to admire it, and when Dustil was training under Revan, Jace almost always took some time to watch it, whether it had been in person or from the security cameras. Now it was more important than ever because that was the only way he wouldn't lose the skills. While a much different paradigm, Jace was still very much a force to be reckoned with that even Dustil and Trek respected.

Hours passed and Jace was getting nowhere on one particular machine. It wasn't the most important priority but Jace didn't think it would take this long to adapt a statistics monitor and program it to constantly give updates of stocks and current events. Desperate to take a break, he told Cassandra that he was ready.

The new crew seemed like nothing special to him. None of them were too green and a couple of them didn't even need to know how to operate the computers on the ship because they were soldiers. But there was one particular brunt force merc caught Jace's eye, probably because he liked how he was dressed. The guy looked like a real veteran, the old fashioned type with a long trench coat that packed a rifle and a monstrous gun on his hip that was about half the size of that rifle. He looked like that old fashioned type of bounty hunter, the kind you read about in stories, or see in the movies. Jace also liked his hat, although he wasn't sure how to think about the facial hair. Maybe the guy could pull it off, but that might have just been because Jace himself was the scruffy type who didn't care for hairstyles in general. Either have facial hair or don't.

With work on his mind, Jace made no effort to socialize and expressed very clearly his wishes to not be disturbed. What Jace didn't even realize about himself at the moment was that his guard was down. He had forgotten that appearances sometimes do matter and at a time like now when he was meeting people that would be the working gears of the rebellion, it might have been wiser to take a little more tact.

Jace stuck himself back in his lab and threw up the basic security measures that rivaled slamming the door shut and got back to work.

Footsteps across the floor echoed the lab, and it took Jace about a second to realize that they weren't his. His watch told him that there was no security breach, and he had no pets that he knew of. He quietly put down the hydro spanner and proceeded to investigate.

The sound of the footsteps led him towards a corner in his lab with a lot of shelves. Peering through, he saw at one of his tables that merc whose appearance he liked. His nerves rattled a bit and he contemplated how to handle this. Maybe the other reason Jace decided he had liked him was that he was tough to get a reading on. But now those feelings were starting to change and he still couldn't get something. Sneaking and eyeing him at the moment seemed like the best course of action. The element of surprise was on his side.

He moved closer, still eyeing the merc and then he needed a better angle, more for the element of surprise than for the observation. When he peered around the other side of the shelf at the same location, the merc was not there. Jace cringed and slowly turned to his left. He knew it was coming but he couldn't stop it.

The hard fist came to the side of his head and cracked him on the temple. He stumbled and began to fall, gripping his lightsaber to fight back but the merc kneed him again and grabbed it before he could ignite. The merc did that for him, and in the few seconds before losing consciousness, Jace braced for an interrogation.

Dutch switched on Jace's silver lightsaber and examined it. A fascinating weapon he had never seen before; definitely a cutting and fusing blade. He tossed it aside and pulled out a rope from his rook sack and bound Jace by the hands and legs to a chair. He kept the clothes on, there was no point going over the top here even though the walls were soundproofed, allowing Jace to scream all he liked. And no one was likely to visit given Jace's instructions to not be disturbed. For now, he was safe.

This wasn't Dustil Onasi, but a kid like this clearly had something to hide and his abrasive attitude told Dutch that this was the man to talk to about things. Unfortunately that meant Dutch would have to beat his answers out of him. He slapped Jace back to consciousness and began to speak.

"Where is the other Force sensitive on the ship?" Jace was surprised that the merc knew he was such but it had probably come from seeing Jace use the Force to help him with his work. He was always doing that, not very subtle.

"In your ass."

Dutch cracked him across the cheek and repeated the question.

"Alright alright," said Jace. "I'll make it easier for you. It's me."

"You're lying."

"Yeah, I am."

This time Dutch dealt him a backhand across the other cheek and Jace reeled from it. "Let me tell you why I'm here. I'm not here to sabotage the ship or the crew or your little gadget cave. I just want Mr. Onasi."

Jace chuckled and swallowed some of the blood on his mouth. "Why? Like the way he looks?"

But Dutch kept his composure this time. He stared deep into Jace's eyes and he knew Jace was struggling with that rope. "The Force won't help you with that one; keep it up and I'll tighten the rope for suffocation, and believe me you don't want that."

Jace braced for more beatings, but a third voice was heard behind the secondary entrance to the lab installed in the wall. "Myrther?" it said. The wall opened and Dutch reflexively had his hand cannon out in front and starring down the barrel at their new visitor.

* * *

_Minutes before…_

Trek was in his office when he was contacted by Archie on the sub-network. Once the security hoops were passed, he heard the voice. It sounded urgent but hushed. "Sir I don't want to start a manhunt across the ship, but one of our bounty hunters hasn't shown up for his session on the firing range. Dormitory reports show he isn't there either."

"Got a name on him?" Archie gave him the name and a basic description, commenting that the name was probably an alias. "I'll take care of it."

Before Trek could even think about how to fix a problem like that, his head started to pound just a bit. Thirty seconds later it stopped. He knew a disturbance when he felt one and before he could even figure out what it was, he was moving a brisk strut through the hallways and towards Jace Myrther's lab.

The secondary entrance was the place it'd be less likely to be spotted. "Myrther?" he said while already punching in the codes to open the door. The door screeched open and the next thing he saw was the big mouth of a gun six inches from his nose. Trek gave an angry sigh as he stepped past the threshold and even closer, allowing the door to close behind him.

"Sit down," he was ordered.

"Don't count on it. You blink and…" Trek didn't finish the sentence because he was too busy trying to stare at the person behind the gun and quell his disbelief. There was no fear in Trek's eyes, and once he confirmed it he relaxed slightly without letting his guard down.

"This thing is pretty loud and pretty messy. Even if I miss, I won't really miss. Now _sit_ down."

But Trek had other ideas. He had to act on instinct. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He could tell that his emphasis on the wrong word got the man's attention. The truth was he knew him. It was likely Dutch didn't recognize him, given the fact that Trek had been dead for three years. But if he kept looking at the face long enough he would figure it out. He had to tell him now. "What's the matter Dutch? Don't recognize me?"

Dutch lowered his gun a bit so that the end was now aimed at Trek's chest and not the head. He looked into Trek's eyes and studied the face. Trek hid his joy of Dutch's eyes turning from perplexity to awe. "You're awful spry for a dead man."

Trek smiled. "Well now that you know who I am, maybe you can answer my questions. What are you doing here, why do you have Myrther tied up in a chair, and why are you _still_ pointing a gun at me?"

"You know the job comes first for me." Trek did know that about Dutch. The man was obsessive about the work he did. But that didn't explain why he had done what he did and Trek couldn't afford to just act like he was going to let it slide because they were old friends.

"Care to explain the details of this job?"

"You know I can't do that."

"He's after Dustil!" yelled Jace, still bound to the chair.

"Shut up!" Dutch kept his gun on Trek as he sidekicked Jace in the chest with his right foot, sending him and the chair crashing to the ground. Jace made a fake groan. Trek still didn't move but he wasn't happy about it. Myrther could take the pain but now Dutch knew that they were connected to Onasi and for a moment he was stuck. He wanted Dutch to think he had the advantage right now but the man could not be underestimated.

With a little callous in his voice, he said, "You really don't want to tangle with Dustil Onasi. Sharkraw is sending you to your death. That's what happened to everyone else."

Trek could feel Dutch tense up. This was good. The fact that Trek knew that no one else but Cavix Sharkraw could have hired Dutch to hunt this particular target at this particular time was bound to make the man uncomfortable. But it was also a double edged sword. Dutch was a maverick and he still had a gun aiming at Trek's heart and Trek had no wish for him to pull the trigger.

Dutch maintained his slightly shaken confidence. "I've dealt with worse." This was also true. Trek had seen him do it. The man he was currently trying to manipulate into surrender was once a candidate Trek wanted to recruit into his rebellion. Unfortunately at the time Dutch had been tangling with some very powerful Sith on Shikara who wanted him dead. That would have been even better news except Dutch had gone completely dark. When they didn't find a body, he wasn't dead. But that also meant that there was no way he could be reached.

"But you've gotten sloppy," said Trek. "What's with this pithy interrogation?"

"You know how I do things, Trek. He knows how to find Onasi and I need that information. If I thought he'd be willing to give it to me, I wouldn't torture him."

"Good instincts," said Jace from the floor. "Because I'm not telling you jack."

"Then I'll beat it out of you."

Dutch's eyes had remained fixed on Trek and he knew they wouldn't move. As much as Trek agreed with Dutch's premise, he had come to Myrther's defense and he needed the man to stand down. His mind briefly wandered to thoughts of what he would end up doing to the man if it didn't happen to be Dacary Tobin. "It doesn't work," said Trek. "Believe me…at one point I tried everything on him. This man could probably have alligator plugs burning thousands of volts of electricity through his testicles and he would not break."

Dutch eyed Trek strangely again. Trek knew he would be wondering if Trek had actually tried this on him. The truth was that he didn't, but enough eye contact would reveal to Dutch that this was a futile effort.

Strangely enough Dutch's confidence still wasn't wavered. "Then maybe you'd like to answer my questions. Call it a favor from one friend to another, but don't expect me to holster the gun."

"I know you to well to try that," said Trek.

"I've seen the dead rise before and most of 'em I had to bury back down. How the hell did you survive getting blown up in outer space?"

"The same way you probably survived Shikara."

"Violence and seduction? That's not your style, Trek." Dutch grinned at the cheap shot. Trek was probably the worst possible candidate for a seduction operation in the entire galaxy. He could be charming but it was the kind of charming that would get a woman to give up innocent information she knew; not the kind that would get her into his bed."

"Fine, the Force, ingenious engineering, and a little bit of luck. Why didn't you try and contact me?"

Dutch knew what Trek was referring to. "I would have joined your rebellion if you hadn't gone dark for six months right before you suddenly all died around Mengskin. I had just finished another job and that was going to be my last. Thanks to you that didn't happen…"

"You can always join us now." Trek was only half sincere here. He really wanted Dutch to join; the man was an asset who hated the Sith as much as he did. He had intergalactic contacts that would prove invaluable. But at the same time Dutch couldn't be trusted. He was counting on Dutch to be a little conflicted.

It wasn't working. Dutch vehemently shook his head. "I can't do that. My objective is Dustil Onasi. Whether you or I like it or not, I'm following through with that objective. Now where is he?"

"I don't know." Dutch raised his gun back up to Trek's head and repeated the question. Trek gave him the same answer but followed up by saying, "As an old friend, if I knew I would tell you. But whatever lackluster information I have won't be of use to you." Trek was getting tired of playing hostage. "Dutch, you're working for the Sith. You know me; I'm well within my rights to kill you right here and now, and I'm sure Myrther would very much like me to."

Trek looked over to Jace to see the boy say, "Yes I would. And maybe we could tie someone else up around here you, know? Just for a change of pace…"

"And you also know that no matter how close your gun is to me, you won't be able to kill me if I don't want it."

"Then why didn't you seize the countless opportunities you had?" Dutch asked.

"I owe you more than that but my patience is running low. Even if you killed me, you're not getting off this ship alive. Myrther's already broken free of the ropes." Unfortunately it wasn't true. Trek wanted Dutch to look over but Dutch didn't fall for it. But the mild charisma was working. "Surrender now and I promise I won't kill you. No one else on this ship knows where Dustil is or what he's doing." Trek was comfortable saying that because if Dutch actually knew the relationship between Dustil and Cassandra, he wouldn't have been interrogating Jace. "But try anything, and you'll die working for the Sith."

Dutch was breathing lightly. He had it under control, but Trek could tell those last words were getting to him. Trek could tell the man was thinking. He was probably asking himself if Trek was actually going to that after all the years they've spent together as friends. The fact was that Trek would think twice before, but every instinct would tell Dutch the contrary and his instincts were excellent. Trek's eyes were far too dangerous in their unwavering focus to be ignored.

With great reluctance, he released his firearm and turned it over.

* * *

"_Damn it all!_"

Dustil had broken every record and every time trial for every challenge in the temple and he had even broken a few of his own multiple times. It was the only thing he could do to pass the time while he'd wait to be contacted. It had to have been over a week. Bastila had told him only to wait three days. And he couldn't alter the broadcast to aggregate summoning because that would surely lead an army straight at him. Although a part of him was actually itching for a real fight, it wouldn't help the mission. Either the Jedi were ignoring literally every signal emanating from the temple no matter how private or they simply no longer existed.

"_No…that can't be it. I can't give up that easily._"

A week was just a week but it felt like so much time had passed. If there were Jedi alive, they could have just been killed in that time and he wouldn't have been able to save them or deliver the message. The only humorous thought to him was that if there were any Jedi left that returned to the temple and they just happened to be previous record holders, the look on their faces upon seeing Dustil's new record would be priceless.

He remote-activated his ship to warm up the engines before he got there but something told him to check the Republic airwaves one more time. It had been only a couple hours since the last time he did it and he could do it on the ship, but he was probably going to be in hyperspace again real soon.

"_Republic warship _Harbinger,_ one of the oldest cruisers in the fleet, has now been replaced with an upgraded model. The old Harbinger was allegedly involved in the destruction of the Peragus asteroid mining facility. Heh, you guys will find this funny. Apparently TSF mistakenly arrested the infamous Jedi Exile for the destruction of Peragus because apparently she arrived at the Citadel from there."_

"_Jedi Exile…as in Mandalorian War hero Katara Fenix?"_

"_The same one. The details are still being hashed out. Lieutenant Grenn refused to comment on it. In other news…_"

Dustil had switched it off and now his mind was racing. "_Fenix…_" a name he hadn't heard in years; Revan never talked about her. Before her death, Lena had mentioned her once upon Dustil's own curiosity. No one else in the rebellion even knew her. She had been gone for so long even Dustil was actually starting to wonder if she was real.

There was no time to confirm this; his ship was fired up and within minutes Dustil took off from the building with a new target.

* * *

_Please review our story._

- _Gipper 40 & Sarge42_


	9. Chapter 9: Professional Courtesy

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Professional Courtesy**

* * *

"_Anyone else want to touch me?"_ – Yuthura Ban

"I did not expect to find you here after the day of your sentencing. I thought you had taken the Exile's path. Yet you have returned. Why?"

Fenix sighed. How she longed for the days when Atris _wasn't_ a self-inflated Jedi hack. But Atris hadn't really pissed her off yet. If anything she was still a little shocked by the coincidence. Shot down once and ran into someone she knew; shot down again and now run into another person she knew. Telos was a hell of a planet.

Sparing no expense to irritate her, the Force seemed to have its way with her again. Not only had her powers start returning at a blinding rate, but things were still quite out of her control. She now knew more or less the full story. On board the _Harbinger_ the one who drugged her was an HK-50 series assassination droid, programmed to capture her for a bounty. This was happening at the same time that the Sith had invisibly sneaked aboard the ship from the derelict warship that had attacked the _Ebon Hawk_. Their leader Darth Sion was in the medical facility, somehow alive despite the disfiguration of his flesh. Those Sith were also gunning for the Exile and they began making the crew of the ship disappear one by one, but Kreia was one step ahead of them; disguising herself as a casualty of the Sith ambush, she managed to save the Exile and get her aboard the ship and escape the _Harbinger_ as the Sith took it over. The retreat was the Peragus mining facility, but the assassin droid also stowed on board.

While Fenix was asleep the assassin droid murdered all the miners with a series of explosions and gas leaks throughout the mining tunnels and dormitories. The only survivor was Atton Rand, as he was locked away in the security cage till Fenix had set him free. As she was searching in vain for other survivors, the _Harbinger_ arrived. With Kreia and Atton's help, Fenix destroyed the HK-50 and then infiltrated the ship and use its fuel line to get to the docking bay which had been sealed by the miners before they had perished. This was not before Sion had found them and Kreia stayed behind to deal with him. Kreia had managed to get herself to the _Ebon Hawk_ right as Fenix and Atton took off. They were chased by the _Harbinger_ through the field and when a laser blast hit one particularly explosive asteroid, the entire field went ablaze. Of course, this entire rescue and escape had been with the help of one particularly resilient piece of machinery – T3-M4.

But that was not all. Kreia survived her fight with Sion because Sion cut off her hand and left her to bleed to death. At the time that it happened, Fenix had felt a surge of pain crawl into her own left hand. Not only was the Force returning to her, but so was the manifestation of her own nature that made her such a beloved leader in the war – the bond. And it was stronger than ever before; never had a bond been strong to the point of lethal.

Since the navicomputer on the _Ebon Hawk_ was voice-locked, the only planet on the charts was Telos. Once they landed at Citadel Station they were arrested immediately for the destruction of Peragus and put under house arrest after another bounty hunter tried to kill the Exile. The charges were dropped but as they tried to leave the station, they found that the _Ebon Hawk_ had been stolen. A slim woman dressed head to toe in white had snuck aboard and just taken it. Fenix went through hell trying to get access to another transport to get off the station. Once they were off they came down to the surface but a Czerka Corporation mercenary piloted turret shot them down. Fenix woke to find all three of them pulled out to safety by someone she knew from the war, an engineer named Bao-Dur. Though she recognized him, it instantly brought back memories that she had done an excellent job keeping buried over the last five years.

Bao-Dur was helpful. He helped them fight off the Czerka mercenaries and commandeer a shuttle in the hanger bay of an old military base in the restoration zone. But more HK-50 assassination droids were hot on their trail. Bao-Dur noticed a small flux of power that was rerouted to the polar region of Telos, an area that had no life form on record. The shuttle headed that way but the HK-50s intercepted them and shot them down once again. After surviving yet another crash without a concussion Fenix fought them off and then noticed a small lump sticking out of the thick white snowy surface. As she headed into the bunker, she came across yet someone else that she knew from the past.

With as much calmness and sincerity as she could convey she said, "It wasn't my intent to come here…or to see you again. I'm here because a pretentious schutta stole my ship and I would like it back."

"That ship does not belong to you," said Atris.

"So you admit that you stole it? I never thought thievery was in the Jedi Code."

"Watch that tone, Exile," sneered Atris. "Remember your place here."

"My place here? I'm a Jedi in a school of non-Jedi. Considering your standards, I guess that makes me better."

"You are no Jedi, not anymore."

"The Force has returned to me and I follow the path of the light." Fenix knew what was coming next.

"That does not make you a Jedi. You were cast out, and good riddance."

Fenix scoffed. "Judgment by a group of cowards with less than half the balls I have; I'm not going to argue with you. You can either accept the fact that the Force brought me here or not, I don't care."

"The Force does not guide your actions anymore. You are dead to it, as you are dead to me."

"First you steal my ship, then you insult me without even knowing the full story."

Atris ignored the comment. "Do you have any idea what you have done? You destroyed the one source of cheap and viable fuel that Telos has. It's bad enough that the restoration project has been hampered by corruption; now the one thing they had going for them is no more. Without fuel, Telos will not recover, and if Telos does not recover then that will further the growing schism of this galaxy against the Republic. This is a delicate situation and you have caused a severe blow in which the ripples may affect the galaxy forever."

Fenix rolled her eyes. She was really getting tired of hearing this. "For the umpteenth time, it _wasn't_ me!"

Atris again ignored the comment. She never an opportunity to give a lecture simply pass. "But I should have expected this. Reckless behavior always was one of your strengths. That's why we cast you out in the first place."

"Do not even start with me!" countered Fenix. "I did what I did because I was taught to defend the innocent and the helpless. The Mandalorians were enacting genocide on them and breaking down every barrier the Republic put in their path."

"You were also taught to respect and obey the wisdom of the Jedi Council."

Atris was really getting to Fenix. "The Jedi Council went back on their principles when they decided that this war was not worth fighting for. This wasn't a teenage rebellion. I turned my back on the Council because they turned their backs on the Republic, and that was _my_ choice. And I seem to remember a certain someone who wanted to do the same." Now Atris was squirming and Fenix was secretly enjoying every second of it. "You wanted to do the same thing, but you were too heavily bounded by your aspirations of one day being on that council and knowing that they would never accept you if you defied them. By the way, how'd that work out for you?"

This time Atris didn't take the bait. She let out a deep sigh and the nerves in her body were calm. "I have no wish to continue this discussion. Take your ship. I don't care where you go. Just leave this place; leave Telos."

As Atris turned and walked away Fenix mumbled, "With pleasure."

* * *

One of those little pockets of utter blackness that Trek knew no one ever explored; the _Lone Wolf_ remained afloat in space, the regular crew now well trained in the procedure of the stealth mechanisms. Though things had gone well, Trek received an order from Revan to report to him. Trek made the call from his private office and Revan answered. Revan was in his armor again but the mask was off. Trek didn't know if Revan never took it off or if he just always liked to put it on before establishing contact, even with him.

Revan didn't even spare a greeting – he just went straight into business. Trek felt like he just walked into a classroom five minutes late. "Interesting schedule you've put together. Meeting in the early morning, brunch meeting two hours later, afternoon meeting, late afternoon meeting, final debrief for the day after supper. Is there a reason for all this nearly every day?"

It had been a while since Revan had chewed Trek out for anything. He didn't like it but Revan wanted his answers and even Trek understood the value of kissing a little ass now and then. "Just the way I'm used to running things," he said. "Good way to keep cohesion and stay appraised of developments."

"I'm assuming the Sith did something like this?" Trek nodded. "Well I'm not going to get in your way and tell you how to do your job, but there's got to be a better way to handle stuff like that. It sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare when there are meetings happening around the clock. Keep in mind the need-to-know basis."

"I thought you were calling with orders."

"I am," said Revan. "I'm a little troubled by that report about that assassin poised as a merc infiltrating your crew like that." Trek saw it coming. A little troubled meant that Revan was absolutely pissed and was keeping his composure in the hope that there would be some good news out of this. "How's Myrther?"

"He'll be fine."

"Don't do that," warned Revan. "Don't just shrug this one off as another oops mistake. This guy's working for the Sith and he's hunting Dustil Onasi. If that boy wasn't half a galaxy away from here you know he'd be on that ship. The reason I mentioned your meeting problem is because a Sith infiltrated your ship and nearly killed our top engineer. If the Sith managed to get someone this far in..." Revan sighed trying to keep his cool lest his temper get out of hand, "It's just a little too close for comfort. I can tell you're not used to a problem like that given your past but get that you're going to need to run things more efficiently from here on out."

"He's no Sith," laughed Trek. "The man made half his fortune killing them." Revan eyed Trek skeptically hoping for more. "I know the man. He goes by Dutch. We go back a ways."

"I assume that the reason this wasn't in the report was because you wanted to tell me in person?" Trek nodded again.

Revan was keeping it together surprisingly well. Trek half-expected him to explode in his face like a professional sports coach to a losing team at halftime and frankly that would have been understandable. The truth was that they lucked out. And Revan hated luck. In his experience there sure as hell was such a thing as luck, but to have that kind of control of fate taken away was one of the things that got under his skin.

"I want him brought to me immediately," said Revan. "Make sure only a select handful know about this." Trek respectfully bowed to the wish and the transmission ended.

Revan was right. This wasn't something Trek was used to. Trek's instincts were far too attuned to the Force to not see it coming but the other factor was that when he was alive no one would have dared. Spies and moles were professional; they weren't fanatics – they cared about money and they cared about their own lives. That was probably the reason Trek was able to get away with everything he got away with back in the day. The Sith really didn't know what he was doing.

Trek reluctantly put Archie in charge of the security team to escort Dutch to Kraxis into Revan's custody. It was him and a few others that Trek knew could well handle themselves. It looked like Cassandra was going to get her experience as acting captain of a large vessel after all.

* * *

When the transmission ended Revan quickly changed out of his armor to the Heavy Exoskeleton that he had modified with some help from Myrther to act as a comfortable under-armor that he could put civilian clothes over and not look more bulky than he already was. The next phase of the plan was about to begin.

A week ago the Sith had sent some reactionary thugs to show some strength in Kraxis and kill ideas of dissent. Just like Revan knew they would. The Sith would never let that space station's obliteration be the last word. After letting them do a little damage, Revan had carefully eyed them to find out which one was the most brutal. He did not want to target the leader – merely the most enthusiastic amongst the thugs. When the target was in sight, he and another waited until the target was alone at night. The man went out for a cigarette and when his man confirmed that no one else was in sight, Revan killed him quickly, shredded the evidence and hid the bloodied body in a dumpster. This was a coordinated attack, as he had Yuthura pick out and assign a few select competent men for the same job and they all reported back a success.

The reaction since had also been just as Revan anticipated. The thugs had gone berserk and reported back to the Sith that what resistance there was may be more organized than they expected. They were too stupid to do any detective work of their own and they left the planet rather humiliated. Of course no one really celebrated their departure out loud but the rebel spies could see that people were not upset about it. Like a scheduled stepladder, a much more battle-hardened force showed up, more humans but accompanied by two True Sith warriors. But it was only one force – the higher command was alerted but they didn't want to make it look like they were taking the bait when in fact that was exactly what they were doing. This new force was thuggish but not overly so like the other. They were looking for the rebels and Revan knew it. That was why he waited. He waited for them to make some more people upset and that's what they had been doing for the past four days. Because the rebels had covered their tracks, the Sith weren't getting anywhere.

Yuthura bolted through the door with an update. "You're not going to believe this. Dustil just made contact; guess who he's going after." Revan didn't feel like guessing so he just gave her a shrug. "Your old friend the Exile."

Revan gave her a puzzled look, he hadn't thought about the Exile in a very long time. "Why her?" Yuthura gave him a quick summary and then silenced herself knowing that Revan was going to change the subject to the now. "The boys understand the plan?"

Yuthura told him that they did. While they had some reservations about it, Revan's final word was the order and they at least felt confident that they'd survive the whole ordeal, so long as Revan was alongside them.

The sun fell early on the suburbs that night. The darkened sky was lit up by the stars and the evening lights were beginning to turn on. The pattern the spies noticed was that the Sith would spend two to three days in one place, and on the last day they would force happy hour at the cantina and drink the place up. While they still paid for their drinks, rarely did the bartenders get out of there unscathed. They were a wild bunch. The only sober ones were the True Sith. They had been here for a day and a half and one of the spies heard talk of them going for another round of drinks.

The men were in position. Operation Drinking Game was a go.

Revan clung to the rooftops. Upon the roof of the adjacent building to the cantina, he eyed his fellow spies who were also on the roofs. The Sith forces came as one. They were a big group – a bit bigger than Revan imagined but not enough to complicate the plan. For this time, he wouldn't be looking for one person. The group arrived right as they normally do. They stormed the place. Yuthura had warned the bartender that they would coming tonight and told him to get somewhere safe. He took the anonymous tip well. As soon as they came in he was out of there. Yuthura took his place accordingly.

Three other groups of four rebels sat at different areas, two of them on ground level and one of them a single flight of stairs up. One True Sith stood outside and kept watch. Revan looked down on him, seeing at least four different ways to take him down by surprise but that wasn't part of the plan. He stayed where he was and eyed the activity.

The three different groups of rebels had been pretending to talk and slowly sipping their drinks without consuming too much and had small concealed weapons inside their clothing. They were spread out so to not look all united, but just the unlucky three groups of bastards to cross a wild and soon-to-be drunk pack of thugs.

"What can I get you?" Yuthura gave a sarcastic smile.

"Is it happy hour?" one of them asked.

"Sorry, not until tomorrow." Yuthura originally thought to stretch it out by two or three days but she knew they wouldn't just leave and come back.

"Make an exception. Just for us."

On cue, the two groups on the same level immediately came over to Yuthura and pretended to complain that they didn't get the treatment and that they deserve free drinks while irritating the Sith to no end.

Meanwhile Revan came in through the upper window and rendezvoused with the group at the upper level. They were watching closely. The Sith wouldn't care about them because if a brawl actually broke out the upper level was for staying away from it while still enjoying their drinks.

"Buzz off…this is our cantina now!" one of the thugs said finally during the shouting matches.

And then one of the thugs interjected. "And this bartender is mine." Yuthura figured that was going to come too, given the voluptuous physical nature of twi'leks. She grabbed his hand it, snapping his wrist. Then she smashed an empty bottle on the counter and stuck one of the sharp edges straight into his broken wrist and worked her way up, cutting the artery in three different places. The man screamed and writhed in pain but Yuthura kept the blade in there and the other thugs were terrified. Two of them even shrieked.

"Anyone else want to touch me?" She said staring them down.

The Sith inside the bar saw the whole thing and sprung. He tore through all in his way including his own men and lunged straight at her. He was going to make her pay for what she did. Yuthura wanted to duck but the Sith was too fast.

But Revan stopped the Sith dead in his tracks. The reason he had assimilated into the group was to remain completely anonymous. He stuck his hand out, channeling the Force through the tips of his fingers and caused the Sith to levitate. Meanwhile the six other men around him were also holding their hand out front. Even if the Sith got a message out, no one would know who the Force sensitive was.

The fighting broke out. The groups on the lower level started hammering fists and broken glasses at the thugs who were still caught off guard. It was meant to be a bloody scene and they were having fun.

Without even moving his hand, Revan slung the Sith straight up into the rafters and then slammed him back down onto the floor. With one more lift again, he also lifted a long chain from one of his men's backpacks and began to strangle the Sith with it in mid air. It wrapped around his neck while the rest of the chain tied itself to the top of one of the rafters. Revan let go and let gravity and the chains do the rest of the work.

By now the other Sith would be aware of what was happening. Sure enough he entered and as the door swung open a star blade sliced through the air and landed in his neck. That wasn't enough to kill him, but before he could pull it out, Revan was on him. The rest of the men helped to overwhelm the thugs and their orders were clear – absolutely no mercy. Revan pounded the Sith with his elbows and when the Sith was finally unconscious he cranked on his neck three times.

They spent the rest of the evening dumping the bodies and cleaning up the bar. They left the dead Sith hanging from the rafters there however. By the time all that work was done they sat down quietly and had just a few more drinks. The bar fight was loud inside but no one could hear it more than a block away outside. A couple of the rebels got drunk but Revan was okay with that. They had done excellent work and had surpassed expectations. Revan expected that he might have to handle most of the thugs on his own. Instead he only had to deal with the actual two Sith warriors. Revan left a nice big pile of cash inside the register and left a note on the outside of it: _Hope this is enough to compensate._

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Dutch sat alone and motionless at the table in the interrogation room. His thoughts were racing on how to get out of here. Trek or no Trek, he had a job to do. The thought had crossed his mind to simply turn his cheek to the Grand Apprentice and join the rebellion. It was a pretty nice thought. _Yeah one that would earn me a cushy spot on the Sith's most wanted,_ Dutch thought to himself. He had taken too much of Sharkraw's money to not produce some results. Luckily the job didn't entail turning on Trek. It would take a price at least eight times what Sharkraw was paying him for him to even consider it.

"_Dutch, if you can hear me nod your head._" The voice came out of nowhere but considering who was on its mine it was pretty easily to identify. He gently bowed his head once. "_Just wanted to give you a heads up; they'll be here in two minutes to follow my orders. You'll be knocked out, sedated, and then transported off this ship._"

The bounty hunter sighed. With his hands he began drumming on the table. To the bystander he was just bored and making bad percussion music. To Trek who was watching from the camera, Dutch was responding. He beat his knuckles on the table, some long and some short to make the letters and a half-second pause between the words. "_Why tell me?_"

"_Call it professional courtesy._" And then he heard nothing. He cursed under his breath. In two minutes they came just as he expected. He didn't even stand up. This was a hell of a professional courtesy, and Dutch was probably one of the few people Trek would give it to. No chance of escape here. If Trek was right, then there wouldn't be a chance of escape till he was in an even worse spot than he was in here. But a heads up was all he was going to get.

The dart hit him in the neck and in the next few seconds his vision went black and he slumped back in his chair.

* * *

The _Wingless Angel_ dropped out of hyperspace into the Onderon System. Dustil's eyes widened as the sheer volume of backed up space traffic came into view. Dozens of spaceships, easily over a hundred – military cruisers, pirate vessels, mercenary frigates, transport shuttles, yachts, corvettes, and corporate cargo ships all made up the triple-file line. For a moment Dustil even thought he saw an escape pod in the cluster. All these ships were moving forward at the half-speed of a Tarisian snail.

Luckily Onderon was not a place of extreme poverty. Of course it existed but the city profited heavily on the traffic and the Onderon military offered complimentary fuel at every checkpoint. Not enough to fill the tank but enough to keep the ship floating while it braved the wait. Dustil had heard of Onderon's orbital activity before but it was different to see it in person.

For a moment he began to reconsider. Not to ignore the Exile – she was his target and he was bent on finding her. Instead he considered exploring other options. This kind of traffic would probably keep him tied up for over a day and maybe even three. The chances that the Exile would be here right now were slim; the chances that he'd be able to find her in this traffic even with the Force, slimmer.

The way Dustil saw it there were two problems with leaving. If he left and came back, the traffic volume wouldn't change and he'd be stuck in that line anyway. And if the Exile was in that same line then, he'd be forced to cut his way through and drawing attention was the last thing he wanted. The other was that there weren't that many options. Dustil didn't really know why he set course for Onderon but during the travel he was meditating. He didn't know enough about Fenix to figure out her motives.

That was another thing he needed to figure out. If the Exile wanted to disappear, she could go to either Nar Shaddaa or Onderon – get lost in the space traffic for a while. Considering what Dustil had heard about her that was a highly likely option. But the problem with that theory was that Fenix had been in exile and in hiding for over a decade and no one ever picked up a thread on her. If she made herself visible, it was either because she wanted to or because someone else with many tricks up the sleeve wanted it. Dustil didn't know which, but all the same he didn't want to rule it all out. If the Exile wanted to revisit old battle grounds she could go to Dxun, Taris, or Malachor V. Dustil hadn't the slightest wish to revisit Taris or Malachor. Dxun was Onderon's moon. The odds that she'd come to this system were therefore greater if that was her motive. The Exile probably had no intention of rejoining the Jedi Order.

Logic pointed to any number of directions but something else was telling him to stay. The feeling in his gut trying to get its own voice heard. Instincts were among Dustil's strongest traits as a student of the Force. There was something to be gained here; whether it was an opportunity or an answer or both, it would be in his interests to stay. Dustil's mind was too tired to really think about it all that hard but he entered the line, switched to autopilot, and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42_


	10. Chapter 10: Angry Clients

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Angry Clients**

* * *

"_That narrows the list down to about fifty thousand people._" – Juhani

Liam Arcturus checked out of his office early and ordered his driver to take him to his suite immediately. He cared not for politics by the end of this day. He didn't even care to call his wife and let her know that he wouldn't be home until late. He just wanted a drink alone and quiet in his fancy suite that he seldom visited.

It was just a place he bought in a single down-payment where he could have some alone time. It was something of a gambit; all politicians had at least two residencies – one on Coruscant and one on their home world but usually they were nice family houses. Something the cameras would marvel at and the journalists would find appealing when they were lucky enough to get interviews. Few politicians had suites like this one, and if they did it was for philandering purposes. Not Arcturus; very few besides himself had even set foot in this place. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a roomy lounge with a treadmill, a giant screen, and surround sound speakers. Because the lounge was at the top of the building, he was privy to a fireplace. The giant screen was up above it and in between was one of his most valued possessions. A blaster rifle from the Great Sith War with the little handle at the top and the slide back on the left to cock it ready. He had done some serious bargaining for this weapon at the auction thirty some years ago. Arcturus loved his guns. Another side of the wall had the code of his college fraternity along with the list of famous names that included his own. Then in both bedrooms had a big shelf of his favorite works of fiction – counter-terrorist and political conspiracy thrillers along with murder mysteries and even some erotic young adult novels. That might have been the real reason he didn't let most people in here.

Earlier in the day Arcturus found himself locked in a shouting match with rookie Liberal Senator Nilko Bwaas of Manaan. The topic was so trivial and boring it was normally never covered by the news, but this was an exception. More and more cameras and microphones entered the room to focus on them. Arguing in the details in the committee both of them hardly cared about. He didn't even remember how it started; only that it lasted over an hour and by that point even the chairman was gone. Now he was joining the ranks of countless politicians that were fighting each other. He wondered how many of them were given the same prodding by this shadow boss of his.

Arcturus poured himself a strong one and sat down on the fluffy recliner just after pulling back the dark blue curtains. The lights were dimmed and the freshly darkened sky had lights popping up all over the city. The coaster on the small table next to him rested the glass after he downed it.

Spectacular as it was the view meant nothing to him. It was all disgusting and beneath him. The universe was bought and sold cheap and the government was just the biggest buyer with the political capital to do whatever it wanted. Politicians were just clowns and hobgoblins dressed in fancy suits with those eloquent speeches and perverted smiles. Most of these men and women had their heads so far up their own rears that they thought listening to the people meant talking to them. The vanity was boundless, and it went against everything the founding documents of the Republic stood for. The worst part was it wasn't always like this. Politics was never an honest business but politicians weren't always like this. Politicians used to battle in the chamber as ruthlessly as ever during the day and then join each other for a pleasant chat over a beer. What differences they had never stuck for long. Not anymore; all of the friends Arcturus had on both sides of the aisle were either dead or gone. Now it was just a clean playground for the elites of society.

And Arcturus was elite. He had no intention of hiding from that fact. He was as smart as they all were if not smarter and he could shout as loud as they could if not louder. He knew he deserved respect and he commanded it from everywhere he could. That was why it irked him tirelessly the way this illusive money ambassador spoke to him. That bloated hack hiding behind that voice scrambler and giant mound of credits. Arcturus was called upon by that nameless man for this plot. It was said to be glorious, a restoration of faith in the Galactic Republic.

"_What a bunch of crap!_" He had fallen for rhetoric, Liam Arcturus – one of the most charismatic individuals with a well-aged face and voice gifted for fame and glory had succumbed to the idealistic notions of a conspiracy. There hadn't been any excitement behind it; he simply agreed to it out of sympathy for the cause and nothing else. But he hadn't signed on for this.

He hadn't really tried but this guy was good; he covered his tracks well and he was more than a step ahead. The routing and account numbers that transferred the money were different each time. The sole similarity was in the first few numbers which told him that it was one bank – one of the biggest and most exclusive banks in the galaxy. He knew that only because some of his biggest donors wrote their checks from that bank. The answer was almost always in the details.

Arcturus wasn't about to give up on his part, but the head of the pack had pissed him off enough. He needed to be revealed. He knew it was in part his pride speaking to him, but in the long run it would serve as leverage. Tomorrow he would make up some excuse to the media with some additional jabs at that slobbering fish face before departing to several different bank locations on Coruscant, Telos, Alderaan, and then back home at Corellia where he would spread out his money pool and get more information. With luck he would at least be able to find out where his boss did his business.

* * *

The fumes from the crackled spice point blank from his nostrils snapped Dutch out of sedation and his head jolted back. The first thing he noticed was that his hands were free, as were his legs. There was nothing keeping him in the chair, except for the current migraine. The lights were not too bright or in his face, but his vision was still blurry enough to not make out the man in front of him. The man wasn't too tall, but definitely well built considering how lean he was. As his vision came back, he could tell the man had a couple of layers on that hugged his skin closely.

Dutch rubbed his eyes a bit and then the back of his neck as he looked at himself. As far as he could tell he was in good shape. His gun was back in his holster, and his other weapon was safely tucked in his shirt.

The man just stood there for about a minute, it looked like he was sizing him up, or maybe just waiting for Dutch's vision to come back. Dutch didn't exactly have a poker face on; his expression was grumpy and the lights came on more and more as his vision returned. He motioned for Dutch to stand up, and as he did he heard a small jingle in his left pocket. When he pulled out the strange object, his perfect close vision deciphered a rare coin worth at least 500 bonds. Confused, Dutch looked up at the man who was now much closer and thus much easier to see.

"For your troubles," said Revan. Dutch just shrugged, figuring the man had more to say. Revan pulled out a slightly hefty stack of papers. "I suppose you haven't seen these before. Take a minute to look it over."

Dutch's vision was now back. He put the papers on his lap and looked up, having to ask just one question. "You didn't even take the clip out of my gun. How are you so quick to trust me?"

"Who says I do?" That answer seemed to satisfy Dutch, but he was still a little reserved on asking too many more. This guy was extremely confident, and quite intimidating. Few men in this galaxy actually scared Dutch, but something told him he wouldn't want to go toe to toe with him – survivor intuition.

The papers were his personal file, everything the Sith had on him plus some other escapades that only Trek knew about that he added. Dutch figured this out fairly quickly as the mission descriptions and outcomes matched the stories. Dutch had briefly forgotten how far back he and Trek actually went. Dutch wasn't a man for odds but he knew them and hated them at this moment. He had a feeling where this might be leading up to but a part of him didn't want to listen and just go back to tracking down Dustil Onasi.

Revan meanwhile was having just as much trouble as Jace did in trying to get a facial reading. This bounty hunter had to be at least mildly terrified considering recent events but his face didn't show it. Trek hadn't really bothered to tell him much about Dutch aside from things about his past. He must have figured that the rest would just reveal itself.

"So you know me," said Dutch. "That doesn't change anything."

"Not true Mr. Tobin," replied Revan. "I wanted you to see those files so that you would be prepared to answer my questions."

"You're going to interrogate me while I have a gun strapped to my side?"

"It doesn't have to be an interrogation." It was strange; HK-47 gave Revan almost the exact same response when he wanted to ask it questions. "From my standpoint it's just a little puzzling. What's a self-trained killer like yourself doing whoring out for the Sith?"

"We're all whores," said Dutch. "We just differ on price. The money was good and the target seemed worthy enough. Just because I don't like my client doesn't mean I won't do business with him. Is this really all you have on me? I'd have expected there to be more."

"Sith aren't exactly the paper-pushing type." Dutch had to agree there. He had done jobs for them before and almost always the information he was given at the start was just a fraction of what he needed. He'd of course find out overtime and after the job was done he would debrief with them and fill in the missing holes in their data and then take off to his next job. Due to the lack of resolve and organization needed for good information gathering, it was a highly profitable business that Dutch had previously considered retiring into.

"But maybe you want to fill in some of the blanks?" Dutch didn't reply. "Didn't think so. My next question: Trek happened to mention to me that you're not particularly fond of the Sith. If that's the case, why have you killed for them so many times?"

"Pride only hurts, it never helps." Dutch tried to make himself look bored but in fact he was quite enthralled. His theory on where this was going was getting stronger but it might require a few questions of his own to get there.

"Now this is a bit unexpected," said Revan. "You're one of the only bounty hunters I've met who _didn't_ take offense to my accusations that you've killed people. Nearly every target you've pursued has been taken alive."

"The Sith didn't pay me vast sums of money to hunt extremely dangerous targets that they were planning on spending even more money on by sticking in a prison cell for life sentence."

"Do you approve?"

"I don't care. They pay me what they owe and then cut me loose."

Revan thought for a moment. Dutch Tobin wasn't just hard to read, he was hard to get a reaction out of. "You're quite placid for someone with an odd tempered hatred for the Sith."

Dutch shrugged as he stood up from his chair and stretched a bit. Revan remained motionless and even surprised that he didn't do this earlier. It wasn't a particularly comfortable chair. "I don't trust any government that tries to get in a man's way." Revan listened on. "I don't trust the Sith because they're greedy bastards who think they're entitled to unlimited power and control over whoever they want." And then a light smirk appeared on his face. "Plus they're fun targets."

"So I know; you made half your fortune killing them. Too bad you had to sell out so you could make the other half of your fortune working for them."

"Don't be ridiculous," spat Dutch. "I only sold out for a sixth."

Revan nodded, hiding how impressed he was at Dutch's composure and also keeping a straight face in wake of the joke. "Thank you Mr. Tobin for your cooperation. I'll need to compile the information and then I'll have you released in just a few more days."

He turned and began to walk out. He knew it was coming. Dutch wasn't a complete maverick. Just a few more steps towards the door and he would be out.

"Stop," said Dutch. "You didn't answer my question. What makes you think I'm not going to blast a hole in the wall and crawl out the minute you exit?"

"You can try; your laser will just bounce around and it might even go into you."

Dutch's expression was sour again. "There's no prison in this galaxy that can hold me, Revan."

Now it was Revan's turn to be surprised. The fact that Dutch knew his name was problematic for he did not have the same loyalty to him as he might have had to Trek. Revan was still unsure on the boundaries of that loyalty but now it was a whole different game. If he didn't think fast, Dutch would win this battle of wits, and that was not going to happen, especially considering what Revan had in mind – a thought that was becoming increasingly warmer.

"_No…no!_" he had to resist the urge to fall for it. Dutch had won this one but it was still on his terms. Dutch was still trapped in that cell and he had been unconscious for the past four days. Revan still had a job to do.

Without looking back, he continued for the door.

* * *

"How did you find me?" Juhani could tell that Rese was trying his best to hide how frightened he really was.

"I'm a Jedi," said Juhani. "It was not difficult." This was a better line than the truth which was that she just looked him up on the database and found out where he last paid his monthly taxes. "How do you know they're after you? And while we are on the subject, who is 'they'?"

"I don't, and 'they' is exactly who I told you. Powerful people in the political and military spheres of the Republic. I'm doing this because it's still a possibility and my instincts told me to get as far away from this as I can."

Juhani was getting frustrated. "That narrows the list down to about fifty thousand people."

"I can't give you any names because I don't know any!" Juhani really hated seeing him like this. She hadn't done anything to compromise the trust she thought they had. Maybe he was just being protective, but if that was the case why did he take up residence here in one of the richest and crime-free areas of Nar Shaddaa and stay with the family for long? Rese wasn't that clumsy. Their arrangement was that she would not acknowledge him and would deny any evidence of his involvement. She would protect him.

"Then at least tell me who your contact was," Juhani begged. "And tell me why you think his information is accurate."

"No," said Rese. "I'm not giving you my contact. It doesn't matter anyway. He's dead. They got to him."

"Who got to him!"

"My contact found out that there are a handful of politicians working for someone in the Republic military. He intercepted a highly encrypted audio from a meeting held between about twenty politicians and someone else. He recorded the whole thing. Then he sent it to me. I paid him and told him that I'd keep it on file. As soon as I heard about the fire I deleted it and erased all previous history with him. Then I ran."

Juhani was relieved to have finally gotten a real answer out of him. "Tell me about this audio conversation."

"There isn't much. They spoke freely but they didn't reveal any information about themselves. All of their voices were masked, and they all sounded the same, except for one of them. His voice was also masked except it was authoritative and menacing. He told them that the Republic military would be grateful to them for all that they did and that he would ensure that the recycled funds would go towards their re-election campaigns through various PACs and interest groups to keep the transfers hidden. I assume this person is high up in the command because that's a hell of a promise to make."

"Is there anything unique that you could make out among the politicians? Any kind of information that might possibly hint towards who they are? I also need to know what exactly he demanded of them."

"He told them that the only real purpose of the meeting was to show that none of them are alone, that this is a collaborative effort and for all intents and purposes an actual conspiracy. I remember him using that word. He said that this was a very dangerous gambit but that a little everyday political business geared in a certain direction that wouldn't be politically healthy was good in the long run. The rest of them gave their opinions and through that I was able to tell that this is not the work of one political party. This is a joint effort by a few people. That's all I know!"

"You said that they were working to bring down the Republic. This doesn't prove that."

"It's enough proof for me when my contact's office gets burnt down and the whole thing gets hushed!"

Juhani sighed. She wasn't going to get any more from him because he honestly didn't know. Rese took the path of ignorance very well on this one given his situation. But thanks to this information there were definitely a few leads to follow. Unfortunately it would take her to Coruscant, the last place she really wanted to go. But if the information was real, she couldn't just sit on it the way Rese did. She was just too much of a Jedi to do that.

* * *

_The next morning…_

A little cot had been laid out for Dutch in the room. He had disarmed himself and went to sleep. They had all the chances in the galaxy to kill him but obviously they wanted him for something. Even to let him keep his gun, it was a way of saying that they might need him to use it. The sound of the opening door woke him up. Revan entered and whistled at him to make sure he was awake.

They let him shower and insisted that he shave. They gave him a new set of clothes similar to the ones he already had. In about half an hour he was ready to go. The suspense was still quite uncomfortable to him. The only thing they had taken away was his watch and comm. device to disorient him and cut him off. He had no idea how long it had been, and while he had no fear of the Sith, if he was to retain any of his honor or even have a chance at getting paid for the job he would need to contact Sharkraw and give him an update.

To make things worse, he didn't have an update. He could tell Sharkraw that both Revan and Trek were alive and it wouldn't matter. Sharkraw was too proud and stubborn to accept that as an update. He would simply feel insulted. Sharkraw wanted Dustil Onasi and Dutch had accepted the job. Plain and simple.

Dutch knew he was afraid, definitely part of the misery he was feeling. Eventually the news would break to him as to how long he'd been out of touch and he'd have to keep cool. It was like there was a giant insect flying around in the room that was impossible to see and he knew at some point it would strike but not when.

Before Dutch could say anything he was out in the barren land alone with Revan. His gun was still on him and it was only after he asked for it that Revan tossed his watch back in his direction. He caught it and put it back on his wrist to discover that it had been six days since he boarded the _Lone Wolf_.

Dutch felt tension everywhere. The hairs were standing up in his neck one by one. "_Keep walking…_" he told himself. This was much worse than he expected. Sharkraw was not a patient Sith. Now this was all history. There wasn't anything he could do to change his past. He could try and cover his ass, but Dutch had never been put in that position before. At other times, he had been set up and he had been able to wiggle out of that and kill everyone responsible one by one. This was a circumstance that really couldn't be blamed on anyone. Would Sharkraw buy it? His instincts told him, no.

His only choice was to listen to Revan and see if he could twist things to his advantage. Something also told him that wasn't going to happen. But it was worth a shot. "So I assume you know what my mission is."

"Yes, I'm aware." Revan was in front of him and the fact that he didn't even bother to look back told Dutch that there was no way in hell he was going to get away.

"And…?"

"And what?"

Dutch sighed. He wasn't going to get an answer unless he gave one first. "I'm just doubtful that you would go through all this trouble to keep me here just because I'm acquainted with the good Commander."

Revan turned his head. "You've been compensated for your troubles."

"It's going to take a lot more than a few hundred bonds to get me to just ignore what I saw and drop my pursuit of Mr. Onasi."

"Oh please, don't call him that. His name is Dustil and he's twenty one years old. Just because he can drink with us doesn't mean he's ready to be a father." Dutch wondered if that was an invitation to get a drink. He didn't say it, but now that it came to mind, he could have really used one. But Revan continued. "Dustil isn't here. In fact, let me just say right now; you're not going to find him." Dutch didn't know if he believed him or if he just didn't want to believe him. "He's out on a mission in the Unknown Territories and he won't be getting back any time soon. Hell I'm not even sure if I'll ever see him again."

"Alright that one is a lie," Dutch retorted. "No rogue leader with a meager army like yours would be dumb enough to send one of his top operatives on a mission with no timetable or way to contact him."

"Believe whatever you want. That's the story I'm sticking by. Whether your employer likes the news or not, you have an update for him."

"_Why does that sound like it could be the truth?_" But he knew Revan was probably powerful enough with the Force that he could make him think that if he wanted to and Dutch wouldn't even know it. All he could think of was to say, "Why?"

"You wouldn't understand if I told you. But you know my name so I assume that you know that what you call the Unknown Territories, I call home."

Dutch's interest was growing. He actually didn't know that but it wouldn't hurt to act like he did. They were walking into the city. Dutch actually hadn't taken the time to look around and see that they had crossed the bridge over the river not far from it. They were now immersed in a sea of urban activity. People walked in all different directions and though Revan had slowed his pace, Dutch was still struggling to keep up with him. The man moved with just a little too much grace and confidence.

But once he figured out that Revan was unlikely to take a turn, Dutch's eyes began to wander. Revan was talking a bit about his home, just another arcane part of the galaxy to Dutch; he was only half-listening. His mind was everywhere, scoping out the environment, looking at everything and nothing in this strange place. All he knew was that he was on Kraxis. He still didn't know the details. A part of him was still looking for a way out. It was like this for half an hour.

Since he was a boy his parents had drilled into his head to be aware. Too many people walked around with a kinetic barrier around their heads. There were four stages of awareness while awake. There was white, which was unawareness. Ideally no time should be spent there. Then there was yellow which was general awareness. The healthy type in which one would go about his day simply aware of everything – that was the goal. Then there was orange, which was heightened awareness. That was the stage where one would notice something out of place, something wrong with the picture. It could start with a simple fire suppression vehicle passing by where one would wonder what is happening. Then perhaps that vehicle would turn in the direction of where he lives and it would intensify to curiosity and so on. As the situation becomes more and more agitating one could take steps to ensure that he wouldn't have to go to the final stage – red. That was survival mode, the place never to go unless forced into it. The basic lesson from all this that Dutch's parents told him went like this. "_If you spend your day in white, you may suddenly find yourself in red, and thus unprepared for it. At that point the chances of survival decrease substantially. Be aware, and if something is wrong, take the basic safety steps._"

It was because of this awareness that he noticed the unmistakable yellow eyes from his peripheral. It took every ounce of restraint not to turn his head up and around to look at the Sith following them from the rooftops. This particular section of the city was more residential and the buildings didn't go more than three stories high. The thickest of traffic was behind them, but there were still a lot of people around. People had gotten used to seeing those tall dark and hair-raising creatures do abnormal things with their magic. Even if they noticed the Sith, they wouldn't have bothered to look more than twice. Not Dutch; part of being aware was to sense out things that looked out of place. This Sith had been following them for a while.

After closing his eyes for a few seconds and letting the shivers pass, he looked ahead at Revan. The man was still moving and had not turned around even once. The only different thing was that he had stopped talking. "_Does he even know?_" Dutch wanted to slap himself for thinking that. Stupid question…of course he knew. Why else would he have not bothered to take a single turn this entire time? "_What the hell is going on?_"

The feeling persisted for another ten minutes. Dutch continued checking his peripherals to make sure the Sith was still there. Sometimes he wouldn't see it but he knew it was still there. If Dutch was right, the Sith was a scouting unit. He would follow them until they got back home and would then alert the others, most likely nearby. Dutch didn't know much about Revan but there was no way he would let himself get exposed like that.

He had to mention it. If he didn't, it would turn into another situation out of his control. In a hushed tone he said, "Were you ever going to tell me that we were being followed?"

Revan's honesty was unexpected. "Eventually, yes. He's been there for some time. That's why I'm leading him away from the base."

"If the Sith think you're dead why the hell is he following you?"

"Because he's not following me." Dutch's expression was puzzled by this, even to the point where he failed to notice that Revan stopped and lightly bumped into him. "He's following you."

Dutch felt even more hairs sticking up in his upper back. That couldn't be right. Even if the Sith did believe he had turned on them, would they really be so brash as to send another of their own after him considering how well it generally works out for them? "_Another stupid question…I'm not dealing with the Sith. I'm dealing with Cavix Sharkraw._"

Revan began moving again. "Stay calm," he said. "Take a deep breath. At this point the Sith has noticed some tension in your body. He will think that you might be onto him so he will back off but only a bit. He won't be out of sight. Don't look for him; keep your eyes on me. I can feel his movement."

"It's just a scouting unit," whispered Dutch. "We can just kill him and disappear before the main hit squad finds us."

"Not true," said Revan in a calm voice. "This is a lone operative. You didn't get a good look at him but he's neither armored nor armed. He's cloaked but he's not going to care if you spot him or not. Unlike his boss, he is patient. He will not strike while you're moving through the street in the middle of a big crowd. By now he will have probably noticed that you are following and even chatting with me. He might even have caught the end of my spiel about the Republic. It means nothing to him. He's just a well-trained grunt."

Dutch was baffled. Yet again he had been proven wrong and every effort he had taken to measure his stick against Revan's proved futile. Revan was far more impressive than Dutch ever expected.

Knowing Revan had an answer, Dutch asked another question. "If he noticed you, how has his target priority not shifted?"

"Because he didn't recognize me. Any Sith who has seen me, has seen me in my trademark armor and mask. When you read my file, that picture you saw was all they had on me. The only Sith to have ever seen my actual face and are alive today are the Grand Sire and General Rexx, and they're not the sketch artist type."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't have snuffed you out. For all you know it might not be me he's after. We won't know unless we split up."

"We're not splitting up." Revan sounded like a chaperone. His voice was just as calm but now it was cold. "There's one more thing you should know about this. We tracked the money entering your accounts. The final portion of your employer's down-payment to you was supposed to come two days ago. The transaction never took place and since then all recent records of transactions between him and you have been erased. Your time in our custody and out of touch from the Sith has caused the apprentice to give up on you. I'd have thought that he'd just stop there and move on, but it looks like now he wants you gone."

Dutch was beginning to understand the position he was in. Revan was really good at what he did. "That means even if I find Dustil and bring him to Sharkraw alive, I won't get the rest of what he promised to pay me and I'll be welcomed with a laser hole burnt through my head."

"Or worse if he's feeling generous. There's hardly a way to tell."

Dutch's blood had gone from ice to broth. His thoughts were everywhere. He would crawl for an escape route if he had to. His life, his wealth, and his honor were all at stake here. A veteran as he was, he was not prepared for this. As much as he hated to admit it, Revan was now his guardian angel if he wanted him. "_Damn it!_" He thought. He couldn't see Revan smiling in front of him, but he knew that he was once again playing right into his hands. "Alright fine," he said reluctantly. "Get me the hell out of this mess."

"You have two options," said Revan. "See that shuttle service to the northeast?" Dutch looked and saw it. "You can use that place to escape, transfer Sharkraw his money back, change your name, retire, and let this final insult by the Sith be the end of your career."

"_Over my cold dead body…_" Just the idea of the Sith insulting him made Dutch want to kill something. Animal, civilian, it didn't matter. His nostrils were snorting and teeth were grinding with rage.

"Or…you can do exactly as I say, and I will not only save your life today but I will pay you the rest of what Sharkraw owed you. And then you will have all the opportunities you want to repay the Sith for their sudden but inevitable double cross."

Dutch thought this would be a no-win scenario. Now Revan had thrown yet another worm at him and he was about to take the bait. Dutch narrowed his eyes and said, "What do you want me to do?"

His peripherals caught the Sith assassin again. It was closer this time. Dutch brought his eyes forward again and he heard Revan take a deep breath. Then came the words through a communication method only Trek had used with him before.

"_Get close to me and match my pace._" Dutch did exactly that without any sudden movements. Then arrived the command he was already anticipating. "_Subtly press your gun up against my back._" Dutch hesitated, and Revan repeated the command. He gently slid his hand to his holster and grabbed the weapon. Then he lightly jammed the muzzle against Revan's lower spine. "_Now keep it there and follow my lead._"

* * *

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
_


	11. Chapter 11: To The Sith

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**To the Sith**

* * *

"_What did the Sith ever do to you anyway?_" - Dutch

From the rooftops of Kraxis, the lone Sith stalked his pray. He made no effort to crouch, for the boundaries of the walls hid most of his body but still allowed him to see over them. He silently strafed to the right and launched forward to the next roof. His hands caught the shingles of the roof further down the street and he allowed his legs to dangle so they wouldn't make a noise. A quick pull-up had him back to his point of stealth. Now he was directly over the target, he could get a good look.

There was something off about this target. He was in plain sight and he could easily be distinguished in the crowd but something was blocking his ability to feel his presence through the Force. A mind trick? No, it couldn't be.

His communicator began to buzz. He almost cursed out loud but silently thanked himself that he was smart enough to keep it on vibrate. He pressed the button in his earpiece.

"Yes?"

"Status update, now!" Cavix Sharkraw sounded like he had been waiting all day.

"Grand Apprentice, I was going to call in a few minutes. I have a positive ID on the bounty hunter. He has his gun out."

"And what about his target?"

"Unidentifiable at the moment, but it is not Dustil Onasi. Shall I take them out?"

He waited as Sharkraw thought for a moment. "Kill the bounty hunter and secure his target. Whoever he is, I want him alive and talking."

"Yes, Grand Apprentice."

"One other thing…" the assassin literally had his finger on the disconnect button. "I want my eyes on. Activate your HUD. There can be no mistakes."

This was the last thing the assassin wanted. He had traveled extremely light but he didn't want the apprentice to know. But if he was going to get paid and avoid his wrath, he'd comply regardless. He turned it on and Sharkraw signed out. Now the Grand Sire's apprentice would see everything he saw. With a deep breath, he pressed forward and kept his eyes on the target.

"How long are we supposed to keep this up?" Dutch whispered. "He's bound to strike at some point, and you don't know if he's going to try and kill us or capture us."

"_It matters not…_" Revan replied through the Force. "_We're going to give him that opportunity. Keep the gun on me._"

They kept moving for another five minutes and then upon Revan's signal turned into an alley and moved like rats in a maze until they found themselves in an open park.

"What is this place?"

"_An open area with lots of witnesses but less margin for error. If I was a Sith, I'd pick this place to strike. I can tell he's already planning on it, but it seems that he's waiting on you._"

"Waiting on me to do what?"

Revan didn't answer. They moved until they reached the center. It was quieter than the other places. A few trees around; the Sith was no longer scaling buildings. Dutch saw it duck down into the daises.

"_Alright Dutch, now's the moment. When I stop, I want you to push me forward and shoot me right in the chest._"

"What!" Dutch almost whistled as he spoke.

Revan stopped. "_Do it!_"

"Sorry kid," Dutch said out loud. "Get down on your knees." Revan complied. Dutch raised his gun and aimed for his chest.

"_Fire!_" Revan's voice was tearing through Dutch's head. "_NOW!_"

The blast echoed throughout the entire park and startled everyone, including the Sith. Revan fell straight backwards, his eyes remained shut and his mouth ceased its grimace.

Dutch did immediately what his instincts told him to do. He spun around and fired off another shot. The blast missed the Sith by a hair and the Sith rammed him into a tree. Dutch's gun was thrown aside and the Sith was using his fists. Dutch put his arms up in a protective guard and deflected a few shots. The Sith grabbed both his arms and threw him down over his shoulder. The spines on his back scraped against Dutch's chest as he was flung.

He reeled on the ground and looked up as at his menacing opponent who was staring at him upside down.

"Cavix Sharkraw sends his regards." His leg towered over Dutch's head.

But the leg was intercepted. Revan swooped in and buried a knife straight into the Sith's thigh. Before the Sith could react, Revan was on him. He blasted him with an endless stream of palm strikes to the face while using his other hand to bury the knife deeper into his thigh. Revan punched the Sith in the heart, yanked the dagger out, and slammed the gushing Sith straight into the same tree.

Dutch's weapon was summoned off the ground and into Revan's hand. Dutch was now on his feet and Revan could tell that he was trying to hide his disbelief. Revan put the heavily thick muzzle of the gun into the Sith's mouth and looked into his eyes.

The Sith was feeling pain and discomfort all over from his bleeding leg to his busted jaw and the HUD was scrambling. He desperately tried to get a close look at the face of the man who was about to end his life. With the muzzle in his mouth he tried to speak but nothing coherent escaped, and Revan pulled the trigger, burying a deep hole in the tree with the brains of the dead Sith assassin.

The few people who were in the area were now long gone. Dutch was up on his feet and Revan tossed him his gun back. Dutch caught it and holstered it. Revan smiled and reached out his hand.

"Welcome to the Kraxis Rebellion."

Dutch had to smile as he took Revan's hand. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

Revan smiled back. "My badge of honor."

* * *

"Is there any evidence that this is going to work?" Miranda Kerrigan asked her unknown superior through her private comm. chamber.

"It is already working, Senator," her superior replied. "I was on Telos the other day and I remember overhearing a debate between a couple of ambassadors about Onderon. The relationship is shaky and the Republic is going to be doing everything it can to keep Onderon in the system."

"Yeah, but how does that relate to what I've been doing for you?"

"Because half of the people you've been attacking are now fighting each other. It seems you got under their skin. The Republic has never been more distracted under the umbrella of political hostility. We're moving smoothly."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"The same thing you've been doing the whole time. I want you to confront the honorable Onderonian in the chamber and rip him a new one."

"You know, my constituents are becoming increasingly aware of how vocal I've been. There's going to come a point where they're going to see it as counterproductive." This wasn't actually true, but Kerrigan knew that eventually it would be.

"No need to worry about that," the voice spoke quickly like he was on an agenda. "Your approval ratings have never been higher and your campaign has established a rainy-day fund for itself. You're taken care of, Senator. I will keep my word." And with that he disconnected.

Even Kerrigan was getting annoyed by the fact that she had no idea who this guy was. But he was helping her out and she was actively working to start a fire in the Republic politic. Liam Arcturus was not the only Senator she had been openly arguing with. She had gone after the Supreme Chancellor, Alek Neeson from Telos, Careb Knox from Yavin IV, Nilko Bwaas from Manaan, she had even gone after almost everyone in her Armed Forces Committee, including the Chairman. That didn't bode well with some of her supporters considering that most of her targets were in the same party. But Miranda had done her job. She was fiery and her tongue was sharper than some of the alien politicians who crossed her. Kerrigan had no problem doing it. She hated most of them anyway. Nilko Bwaas and Liam Arcturus were exceptions.

Liam Arcturus had been in the Senate for a very long time and he was really a friend to almost everyone. His skills and successful history of bipartisanship and commitment to keeping bureaucracy in check and corruption at a minimum was inspiring, especially to her. Arcturus had most likely gotten comfortable with his popularity among his constituents and it was likely that most of his personal ambitions had been satisfied. But that didn't stop him from letting his voice be heard in the chambers and having been labeled by the Supreme Chancellor as the single most important legislator in the minority. It was a stupid title purely for show that had all the merits. Arcturus may have been in the Conservative minority but he was respected and listened to by all. Kerrigan didn't like to take an axe to him in the chamber. But just as she expected, he remained cool under fire and aggressive on the rebound.

Manaan's new Senator on the other hand definitely had the kind of initiative and drive that most politicians comfortable in their fat chairs didn't. Where Arcturus had slowed down, Nilko Bwaas had picked up the torch. He had an economic background and he had made success in marketing and administration of the kolto trade industry. After the Republic kicked the Sith off the planet and permanently banned them from receiving any kolto, Bwaas was given a claim to fame. The Republic with the help of Bwaas had constructed an underwater harvester for the kolto to give them an edge in the war. Though results initially proved successful, the operation went horribly wrong when a giant firaxa shark was awakened. The Progenitor, the mother of the kolto made the other sharks more hostile and drove the Selkath down there insane. It was only until Revan had come along and calmed the fish down by destroying the harvester that the station was saved and a political disaster was avoided. Instead, Bwaas was a hero in the Republic and the benefits of prosperity on Manaan made the Republic all the more popular.

Kerrigan did have a suspicion that Bwaas was involved in the same plot she was. He was probably enough of a crazed patriot to do it, and he was also farsighted to see the long term effects. More importantly, the last major meeting they all had in which their superior made himself and everyone anonymous and then made it clear what precisely the objective was and how they were going to cohesively carry it out. The Republic would definitely reel from what they were doing. There was no doubt about it, but it was what must be done.

During that meeting, each member had been in their own private locations and they were communicating through the secret channel established and encrypted by the leader. He had covered his tracks extremely well and he had made sure that they would all be protected. But in particular, she remembered that one of the members had someone in place speaking for that person. The audio was very good but she remembered listening intently to it and she thought on multiple occasions she had heard a Selkath voice telling the other what to say in his place. She wasn't sure if she had heard it, but if she did, then Bwaas was definitely involved.

However, even if that were true, she had no reason to confront him about that. She'd just have to sit on that suspicion and hope that she'd never need to make use of it.

* * *

_In the satellite headquarters of Lazoris…_

"Reverse and play it again." The engineer hesitated and Sharkraw more forcefully repeated his command. He still wasn't sure if he could believe what his eyes were telling him.

The video feed began playing again and the whole environment began to shake. The unit to which the heads up display was taken the viewpoint looked down to see the large knife buried deep into the bloodstream of his thigh. For several seconds the screen wobbled some more and got fuzzy occasionally as a black gloved fist got closer and closer each time. The face of the enemy could barely be made out, especially when he dealt another punch to the heart and pulled the bloody blade out and sent the Sith into a tree.

They had been replaying this video ten times already and everyone but Sharkraw was dizzy from the breakneck motion of the recording. Sharkraw's unblinking eyes beamed at the screen, knowing what would happen next.

The screen was still wobbling all over the place until the unit regained focus in the wake of being deep-throated by a giant blaster barrel. Now the computerized view was clear and the face of the enemy could be made.

"Pause it now!" When the vision was frozen Sharkraw manually transferred the image onto a secondary screen and began refreshing and enhancing the image.

He had already recognized Dutch. It was the man Dutch had been walking closely behind and then had shot in the chest that he was interested in. A blast like that at nearly point blank range and the mean sprung upward like a frog on cue and forcefully destroyed one of the best Sith assassins in the business. Sharkraw had replayed the video so many times because he thought he might have recognized the face. It was not Dustil Onasi – he would have recognized him. No, the real suspect he had in mind was long dead. Perhaps this video was evidence to the contrary.

When the image processing was done he looked at it again. He could feel his heart start to bash against the rest of his chest. He knew that face. Just as significantly the others in the room knew Shark's face. They could tell when the Apprentice was torrid with emotion and he was sucking some of the pleasant heat from the room. A couple of the officers silently hinted for some others in the room to leave.

"That incompetent bloated pretentious self-absorbed mother _fucker_!" Sharkraw was referring to General Norbus Rexx, the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the man who had engineered and executed the plan that put Revan, Trek, and the Kraxis Rebellion into the ground. At great expense to both lives as well as finance, the plan had supposedly worked and every ship in the rebel fleet was born to bits. The Sith had lost almost three full fleets and even more in castle damage on Mengskin itself. Not only that but Rexx had deliberately lured Revan away from the battle so his tactics wouldn't interfere and so he could use the shell of Lena Verado to kill him. Though that part didn't work, it didn't matter. Revan went back to the rebels at Mengskin and after a feeble attempt to kill Rexx by blowing up the bridge of his vessel he died with the rest of them.

But apparently he didn't. Sharkraw didn't have a problem with the plan. He was more than upset to not be included in the efforts. He would have relished the opportunity to lead the attack and with him at the helm they might not have all died the way they did. Instead he was sidelined and the general's "brilliant" plan succeeded and he got the glory.

However that wasn't the real problem. This was going to incur serious repercussions. The Sith would have to suspend a lot of their major operations and face this new problem head on in order to prevent it from becoming as grave as the Kraxis Rebellion really was. That meant the coming invasion of the Republic would have to wait. If there was anything he wanted more than Dustil Onasi's head on a plate, it was to be the tip of the spear – the frontline in the offensive that would bring about the true Golden Age of the Sith and the permanent preservation of the dark side of the Force. Everything the Sith had engineered in the past several centuries had been about that. The slow degeneration of the Republic with the inclusion of the illusion of prosperity, all of that was leading up to the invasion that was soon to come. As part of his duties, Sharkraw had been monitoring the Republic. While his knowledge of it was limited only to what he could see and hear, given the measures the Sith had taken to not exist, very few Sith knew more about the Republic than he did.

Sharkraw resumed the recording one last time and looked into the eyes of the enemy. Revan fired the weapon and the screen went red with the immediate life signs reading "TERMINATED."

The moment he so longed for with his master had finally come. It was time to pay a visit to the Sith Homeworld.

* * *

"So what now then?" Dutch and Revan were back in the hideout. "Whoever hired him knows I'm here now. That means this place might get a little more attention than it can handle."

"Indeed," said Revan, pouring himself a drink. Dutch already had one in his hand and was taking his time. "Relax, Dutch," said Revan. "You've been through a lot without so much as a breather."

"This is life," replied Dutch. "Besides, what will you do when your victory is ensured? Retire? Settle down? Raise kids? Live the quiet life? I've known you for less than a week and I already know that ain't possible."

"Experience and occupation often lead to different results," said Revan. "We have the same training and the same abilities. What we do for a living is abnormal, quite outside the rest of the galaxy. But you haven't seen war the way I have."

"I've seen action," Dutch protested rather defensively.

"But you haven't seen war. If you did, you'd understand the difference."

"It's all semantics to me," Dutch dismissed the remark. "What did the Sith ever do to you anyway? What are you even fighting for?"

"Peace, justice, and freedom."

"Bullshit…"

Revan eyed Dutch. "What makes you so sure?"

"You didn't decide to lay your life on the line and waste the best years of your existence putting together a war clan just because you felt guilty about the oppression of others. Don't pretend like you're a saint. The Sith did something to you personally. I'd like to know what, and I think it's only fair."

Revan's expression soured. "Have you ever heard of the Mandalorians?" Dutch shook his head. "They're a warlike people segregated by clan and united under the banner of Mandalore. They came out of virtually nowhere and brought fire, death, destruction and slavery to my region of space. Having lived through four decades of peace, the Republic wasn't equipped to handle it so they begged the Jedi for help.

"At first I was rather indifferent to the Council's decision not to help the Republic. I thought the basic separation of religion from politics implied that each would also deal with its own problems. But it's a rather naive take. I found out what the pigs did to Cathar. You think of everything your mother told you not to do in life and that's what they did." Revan took another sip. This wasn't something he liked to think about, but it didn't feel as bad as he thought. Maybe it was the mild effect of the alcohol.

"Bad stuff, fine." Dutch shrugged. "What does it have to do with you?"

"Well you think of it from the perspective of a mature student. If you've been educated throughout your whole coherent life that there is good and evil in the galaxy and the bad guys ought never to win, suddenly the idea of isolation makes less sense. Jedi are interventionists by their nature, and a lot of people in my neck of the galaxy hate them for it. It's okay to intervene to save a victim of mugging but it's forbidden to save an entire race of people from unprovoked onslaught? That's what the Jedi Council thought and I disagreed. I've been a rebel ever since."

"And I take it that the only reason you chose to tell this story in answering of my question was because the Sith were behind it?"

Revan nodded. "I lost a lot of good people in that war. The things I had to do in that war, anyone less objective and willful would be lost. By the time it was over, I thought the galaxy was saved…till I found out the truth. But even then…I might have ended my retribution against them a while ago if it weren't for their plot to take us over all the same."

"No offense, but you're too noble to be in power," Dutch remarked. It came with a rather snide tone but Dutch actually meant it. "You surprise me. I would have thought for sure there was a woman involved."

Revan's wince was barely noticeable but Dutch caught it. "Oh, you lying son of a bitch. There _is_ a woman involved!"

"No," Revan said sternly, regaining his composure.

"Yes there is," insisted Dutch. "I won't inquire about it, but I know love when I see it. I was the best man at Trek's wedding."

"Hard to imagine you in a tux."

Dutch snickered. "Well I hate the Sith because they're rotten insidious bastards who think that because they can use the Force they are better and therefore entitled to things they never earned. I keep it simple."

"So they didn't do anything to you either?"

"Well…I've always been something of a freelancer but I couldn't forgive them for what they did to Trek. My rates for killing Sith lowered quite a bit after I found out about it. And now that they've betrayed me and showed no understanding for the simple things that make bounty hunters good at their jobs, I'm almost willing to kill them for free." Dutch paused for a moment. "But the key word here is _almost_."

"Well I'm a man of my word. You'll be shipping back out to the _Lone Wolf_ tomorrow morning."

"You spoil all your friends like this?"

"Just the ones who can appreciate a drink." Revan was more right about that than he realized. Dutch was not a trusting person, especially when it came to someone who didn't take an occasional drink. Alcohol was perhaps the finest product of civilization. Its ability to blur judgment and distort appearances often brought out the truth and the real personality of the character in question. If your drunk self wasn't all that different than your sober self, the chances that you were hiding something were slim. Even more-so Dutch hated the people who thought themselves above alcohol.

Not that they had let themselves lose control from the drinks – this was still a professional job. But to Dutch, it meant something that Revan, even after a few drinks, was still wise beyond his years. He was beginning to see why he had a following. He inspired loyalty and confidence. Dutch prided himself on being able to see through the bullshit. Revan passed every test.

He raised his glass. "To the Sith. May they die before we do." Revan laughed as he touched the glass with his own and took another gulp.

* * *

_We apologize for the crazy intermission. Rest assured, we are still committed to finishing this story and we will update more regularly from now on._

_Please review our story._

_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42_


	12. Chapter 12: Alive

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 12  
**

**Alive**

* * *

"_You are testing my patience for the last time. Pray that you pass."_ – Rixxon Zazz

The large conference room with the shiny center rectangular table and wall screen held a briefing with the Grand Sire and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. As per his behavior, Zazz was silent throughout the reporting of military status. General Rexx sat on his right as the chief of staff and the other leaders were in their respective positions on the different sides. No one ever sat opposite from Zazz. It was where the screen was and it would be a sign of disrespect.

Opposite to Rexx and on Zazz's left sat Fleet Admiral Yaa'shir, Supreme Commander of the Navy. Next to him was Admiral Cyra and then Admiral Pasherr, the other two Fleet Admirals that oversaw two fleets each. Yaa'shir commanded three of his own and was their boss. Like the Republic, the real strength of the Sith was in their navy. The strategically overwhelming nature of space presence guaranteed power through whatever it conquered.

Both the Grand Sire and General Rexx had respect for Yaa'shir. Whether it was in the rare moments of conducting diplomacy or raiding a world with a massive force and keeping casualties to a minimum, Yaa'shir knew it all. Zazz and Rexx were far too busy and active to care about that sort of thing, but somebody had to. The old Sith cared little for his own personal strength and prowess in the field. He kept himself in reasonable shape but his passion was power and his days of fieldwork were long past him. He built his reputation behind the lines of combat and his record was inspiring.

Before the defeat of the Kraxis Rebels, Yaa'shir sat down with Rexx and tore his entire plan apart. Yaa'shir claimed that while it was a good idea to corner them, the rebels could be destroyed with half the ships the Sith were going to use. Instead of counting on the convenience of a space nebula to corner the rebels, it was better to hide a fleet inside the nebula and spring the trap earlier to cut them off entirely. And instead of attempting to psychologically subvert Amicus Trek to despair by destroying his entire operation around him, the hidden fleet would be in a better position to take out the flagship and kill him right there. The destruction of the flagship would have a multiplier effect, as it was the strongest and fastest in that fleet. Without the tactics of their leader, the rebels would scatter and the chasing fleets would sandwich them in. They could be destroyed or captured more easily, put on trial, humiliated among the Sith, and executed.

But it was ultimately General Rexx's call and he wanted to see Trek made to suffer. His desire to exact revenge against the constant stream of insults Trek paid to him, when they served together and then when they were adversaries overwhelmed any and all military empathy for their own forces. Rexx led the assault and though the rebel ships were destroyed, the Sith lost three and a half fleets in the process. Zazz quietly told Rexx that he should have listened to Yaa'shir after the battle had been won, in a somewhat condescending manner. But in the end it didn't matter. The job was done. Trek was dead. Revan was dead. The rebellion was over and the High Command could now turn their attention in full to the turmoil in the Republic.

Next to General Rexx was General Anethiron, Supreme Commander of all human forces, joint Sith-human task forces, and liaison of the Covert Operations Department. Black Ops was his favorite part of the job. The very idea of toppling an enemy regime or undermining an entire resistance force without the foe knowing what hit them was almost always the ideal solution. When diplomacy yielded no results and military might was off the table, this was the way to do things, and the Grand Sire agreed with him. Not to mention, the enemy did it too and all was fair in war. Amicus Trek and General Anethiron were close friends when Trek was one of them. Anethiron took it the worst and he vehemently objected to the Grand Sire's decision to cast Trek out, but ultimately it meant he had a new enemy to fight; one that he knew well and one that knew him well.

Next to Anethiron was General Kyryll, commander of the Sith infantry brigades. The Sith military structure made it so that with the exception of the higher command, Sith presence almost always overrode humans, but Anethiron had a higher security clearance.

"In short," said Anethiron, "with factors of unpopularity, division of armed forces, political corruption and partisanship, economic stagnation, unsustainable government spending levels, a dramatic increase in organized crime, and the lack of Jedi to keep the peace, the Republic is far more crippled now than it has been in centuries.

"Our spies indicate a mild resurgence of dark Jedi activities along the Outer Rim. Aside from a few Jedi assassinations here and there, our spies did not detect actual movement from them in some time. Two of the leaders of the triumvirate are still in power. The third has disappeared."

"Are they still launching from Malachor V?" Rexx asked.

"As far as we know, yes."

"Is the planet still stable?"

Anethiron hesitated for a moment. "Its core is still intact. As far as the planet goes, it is in no shape to withstand another battle."

Rexx took a moment to absorb the information. The Grand Sire remained silent. All the questions had not yet been asked. "Is there anything to compel you to believe that the Republic has a chance of healing in the near future?"

"How near?"

"Within the next two years."

"Well there is one anomaly of sorts." Anethiron browsed his file, looking for it. "Ah, here it is. There is a Jedi Knight by the name of Fenix who has supposedly returned from exile. She has eluded the triumvirate on multiple occasions and the last sighting of her was on Dantooine. Apparently she quelled some sort of militant uprising in some village."

"This is significant?"

"More curious than significant; the rest of the Jedi are either dead or in hiding. My sources could not tell me much that was solid fact. They could not even verify if her real name was in fact _Fenix_. Her file is extremely classified and the intelligence agencies have been doing a much better job keeping the circle tight. Also my sources do not have any official clearances and cannot hack the files."

"Is there a story behind her exile?"

"Only that she fought in the Mandalorian War. She returned to the council ten years ago at wars' end and they banished her. She hasn't been noticed until now."

"You chose to keep this from your report. Does that mean you think little of it?"

"At this point," said Anethiron, "She has merely doused a few fires where she has walked. But I have people watching her as best as they can."

"You are worried about her becoming another Revan," the Grand Sire commented.

Rexx shook his head. "Not another Revan. Revan's victory over Malak was too little too late. He couldn't save the Jedi and he couldn't save the Republic."

"You are wrong." Zazz smiled, always taking slight pleasure in correcting his subjects. "Revan saved both. It is in his absence that the Republic is falling apart. Under his tactical leadership, his charisma, and his strength, the Republic lived on. Even on his way here, had he given more than a passing glance to the Triumvirate at Malachor V, they would cease to exist. But Revan did not care."

"But…" stammered Rexx. "With respect, Sire. Did Revan not come here out of caring for his allies?"

Zazz nodded. "He did. But he did not know of what would happen to his galaxy upon his departure. The truth is that I wanted him to come."

Everyone in the room was silent and didn't even want to blink when staring at the awesome wisdom of their master. Only Yaa'shir held the modest expression, having already put the pieces together in his mind. But he didn't speak up. It was not his place to do so.

"When Lena Verado escaped from Shikara and killed your brother…" Zazz was referring to General Rexx's younger brother, the warden of the prison Lena had been locked in – Dagron Rexx. "I allowed only a few pursuers to follow. I knew she would return to us eventually. She would not forgive the Sith for what we did to her. But she would seek out help before returning. She would seek out Revan.

"So you see," Zazz concluded. "It was Revan's departure that gave us the turmoil in the Republic we have sought out for so long. And now with Revan dead, we must finalize the preparations for our invasion of the Republic. Now…" Zazz paused. He began to frown more and his brow was furrowed. The rest of the committee did not stop looking at him.

The noise outside the room was getting louder. What was a civil argument turned into a shouting match. Zazz's orders were clear. He was not to be disturbed. But he recognized the intruder by the voice. A flick of his wrist and the massive double doors swung open.

Cavix Sharkraw had the Sith guard by the throat and in the air with one hand. His eyes bulged when he turned and saw the whole committee staring at him.

"Apprentice!" yelled Zazz. "What an unpleasant surprise…release him. _Now!_"

Sharkraw let the guard go and entered to face his master. "Master, I apologize for the intrusion but it couldn't wait."

Zazz was fuming. The gall this child of the Force had. "Yaa'shir, see to it that guard gets a medal. The rest of you, the meeting is temporarily adjourned. Meet back in fifteen minutes. Rexx, you stay here."

As the board left, they all looked the apprentice in the eye, as if they were predicting that may be the last time they saw him alive. Sharkraw didn't care. When his master learned what he knew, all would be forgiven. Rexx shut the door behind everyone else upon Zazz's orders. Meanwhile Sharkraw was moving. He turned the screen on and hooked up the recorder. His master's eye watched his every move.

"Start talking, Apprentice," growled the Sire. "I want to know what was so important you hitchhiked across my galaxy using taxpayer money. You are testing my patience for the last time. Pray that you pass."

"I guarantee it," Sharkraw said, having now collected himself. He knew his master would be like this. There was no other way he could break the news. It had to be in person. Not to mention, the look on General Rexx's face would be priceless when the video would start playing.

Without saying more, he switched it on and began to play it. From the eyes of the stalker on the rooftops of Kraxis, the footage tracked two men; the rugged and dusty man in a hat subtly had his gun against a darkly dressed individual. They moved at the same speed.

"What is this?"

"This, was a live HUD feed three days ago from one of my assassins. I had him follow a bounty hunter I suspected betrayed me."

"You're looking for the boy again, aren't you." The Sire's eyes were getting redder and redder. His glare almost made Sharkraw want to look away but he remembered the rule. When you talk to the Grand Sire of the Sith, you always look him in the eye.

"This is not him," said Sharkraw. "I have temporarily given my search up for him in light of a new target."

"Who?"

Sharkraw motioned to continue watching the video. As they watched the events unfold, Sharkraw had his eye on Rexx. He longed to see the fool squirm and the moment was approaching.

The darkly dressed man finally turned, but the view of the stalker was from far away. The face could not be discerned. The bounty hunter backed up two paces and fired, the loud blast knocking the man flat on his back.

Sharkraw paused, but before he could say more, Rexx cut in. "What good does this do us?"

"The man with the gun is the bounty hunter. You may know him as Dutch Tobin. I hired him to find the boy, but after receiving no word from him in two weeks, I sent one of my own to find him. I withdrew his funding, pending good news and/or a reason for going dark for so long. When my assassin found him, he was on Kraxis, and the target he was pursuing was not the boy. I ordered the assassin to kill Dutch and take his new target alive for questioning."

Sharkraw turned and continued the video. The camera disoriented the viewers as the assassin pounced on his target. When the bounty hunter was pinned, the words were spoken. "_Cavix Sharkraw sends his regards…_" But Dutch survived, and the next thing Zazz and Rexx knew, they were squinting to see the face of the miraculously stalwart stranger they had just seen shot up on his feet lashing out a windstorm of palms and fists straight to the camera. The pursuer fell and no coherent view could be seen other than a man holding a gun to the face. Sharkraw did not pause before the trigger was pulled and the life signature flat lined. The Apprentice had planned out how he would present this on the trip over.

"It seems as if your incompetence has a sense of humor," said Rexx. Zazz did not cease his dangerous stare. If that was all he was going to show, his Apprentice was in deep trouble.

But Sharkraw ignored the cheap shot. This was it.

"I replayed this video a hundred times and enhanced the image. I repeated the process for five other split-second moments that you could see it." He pressed a button and the screen changed to six enhanced images. The first one was all they needed. In full resolution, the menacing man bore a grimace of malice and revenge, his eyes aimed straight into the camera.

Sharkraw turned to his greeters, specifically to Rexx. For the first time, he saw it – the fear in the legendary commander's eyes. Rexx was seething in rage. The room was actually getting warmer. Without smiling, Sharkraw said, "It seems my incompetence is laughing at you."

"No," Rexx lunged for the clicker. He scrolled through the pictures; each one was even more painful to look at. "No!" he screamed. "_It's not possible! I WATCHED HIM DIE!_"

Sharkraw snatched the clicker back from Rexx and gave him a look of scorn. Oh, how good it felt to get under the General's skin like that. "Get a hold of yourself, you simple-minded midget!"

Rexx was not interested in yelling back. He grabbed the nearest chair and swung. The stand above the wheels crashed into Sharkraw's back and threw him over the table. Sharkraw rolled over it and prepared to summon the Force to his aid. Rexx did the same.

Their powers were silenced. Before they knew it, Sharkraw and Rexx were struggling as hard as they could to move their limbs. Rixxon Zazz threw them both forward into each other and held them together in the air, pinning the front of their bodies against one another. "It is time to hug and make up." It was useless to struggle. Rexx and Sharkraw had their arms around each other for about two seconds before they were flung apart once more and back into the walls.

Having asserted his authority once more, Zazz sat back in his chair. "Apprentice, thank you for bringing this information to me; both of you sit down." Rexx and Sharkraw were still gasping and snorting anger. "I said _sit!_" They raced for their chairs and faced their superior. "General Rexx is right to have fear, Apprentice. Do not judge him for it; for I doubt your personal reaction was different." Sharkraw vehemently shook his head in denial but Zazz ignored him. "I find this troublesome as well."

Rexx and Sharkraw had the same reply. "What?"

"That's right…" Zazz repeated that statement.

"We defeated him once. We can do it again." said Sharkraw. Rexx sighed and shook his head.

"Did we?" Zazz replied, his face emotionless. "If you cut off the limbs of a beast but fail to deliver the killing blow, the beast will survive. The beast will endure, and in some cases the beast will grow back his lost limbs. Then the beast will strike back. And Revan is a particularly dangerous beast. When our priority was Amicus Trek, Revan was an enemy whose defeat we took for granted. And make no mistake; if Revan is alive, then Trek is also alive. But Trek will not have changed. Revan has."

Rexx tried to interrupt again, but Zazz went on. "Revan is a schemer. Revan thinks creatively and his deceit may even match my own. The last time we defeated him, we lost over a third of our naval strength and we haven't exactly recovered fully. That victory came from a single mistake. Revan has learned from his mistakes. He has learned our ways and he has learned the ways of our subjects. We no longer have home field advantage, nor do we have the ability of predicting another mistake. While we recovered from our tactical losses, Revan must have slowly continued the work of Amicus Trek, and I think he has been far more successful at it. It will only be a matter of time for Revan to reveal himself to us. If we do nothing…if we sit and linger and wait for that moment to come it will be too late to stop his wrath.

"So, the short answer to your question is, yes. I do fear him. And if you do not, you are a fool."

General Rexx could not believe what he was hearing. First that stuck up swine of an apprentice marches into the room, and instead of getting a well deserved spanking from his master, his findings are lauded. Even worse news are his actual findings. Revan was still alive, a small bit of information capable of bringing out the fears of the one who rules the Sith, the most powerful of them all.

There was nothing factually incorrect about the Grand Sire's deduction. The enemies of the Sith would be out for blood fairly soon, and Rexx was looking like a bigger idiot by the minute. But he still had his uses. Zazz was not upset with him, but he would have to think of something brilliant in order to save face.

"Master," he finally said. "I have an idea."

"This should be good…" said Sharkraw, who was ignored.

"Revan does not know that we are aware of his survival. If he did, he would not have been so careful to keep his operations hidden from us. If we knew of his survival, we would have hunting parties scouring our galaxy day and night, trying to find him, and Revan would welcome it. He would have confronted us and fought us, for he would be vying for attention. The fact that he has been so discreet in his movements suggests that he is not yet ready to reveal himself.

"I say use it."

* * *

_In the tunnels of hyperspace…_

Katara Fenix walked about the _Ebon Hawk_, checking up on the well-being of everyone. Just like the last time she finally found the time to breathe, she was once again irritated of how she had barely been able to keep a hold over events around her. Even when she was helping Vrook and the village of Khoonda, doing demolition and booby trapping tasks to trip up Azkul's invading mercenaries, she could not think about what had happened before. It was almost as if it happened by chance.

Before she had even made the search for Vrook, Fenix briefly returned to her ship to get something. Upon her return, her entire crew was incapacitated and she had felt a disturbance in the Force, one that clouded her physical vision, as if she was seeing ripples in the Force around her. Before she could overcome it, she was clashing swords with a blind assassin, dressed all in red and bearing a red lightsaber. Fenix barely outlasted her but she had been shocked to find that upon destroying her lightsaber, the blind assassin yielded and pledged her life for hers before falling to the floor unconscious. Luckily for Fenix, she was able to salvage from the broken lightsaber the final part she needed to create one of her own.

As the assassin lay in the bed, Atton made a comment about her species. She was a Miraluka. A recently-made rare race of Force sensitives who are physically blind but have learned to see through the Force; their home planet was Katarr, which had been somehow been obliterated by her master. Her name was Visas Marr, although Kreia much preferred calling her "The blinded one" as if to mock her talents for vision. As much as she didn't want to do it, Fenix had to show mercy. Marr pledged herself to serve the Exile and promised that there would come a time where she would meet and battle her master. She would dare not speak his name but her pledge was sincere.

Fenix remembered how hard it is to be a Jedi, how difficult it is to forgive and have patience beyond human limits. Despite all the war and all the suffering she had seen that would drive any normal into a state of cynicism, mercy and compassion to the weak and helpless was still all she knew.

But Visas had proved herself so far; she had fought bravely at Khoonda and her methods of combat were quite pure considering who her master was. Perhaps Visas would play a larger role in whatever events would come.

The first task was complete. The Exile had gained a new ally, albeit reluctant one. Master Vrook was a real ass but when it came to prowess, he still had it. When Vrook questioned her intentions, Fenix thought but for a moment the idea of trying to kill him. That's what Vrook suspected she had returned for. What a difficult fight that would be. But she had no reason to do it. She had no deep grudges for Vrook. If anything, she just wished that Vrook felt the same way. Now the Jedi Master was slowly rebuilding the Jedi Enclave. Fenix told him that he should expect company – that she would seek out the other masters who had survived. Between Vrook Lamar, Zez Kai-Ell, Kavar, and Lonna Vash, they could perhaps be a strong enough force to take the fight to the Sith that had now revealed themselves. There was nothing that could be done for Atris. She was more stubborn than all of them; if she had no desire to take action, then the job would have to be done without her.

For now, the only pressing matter was the fact that they would be in the Onderon System in two days. Kavar would be there, and it was of absolute importance that he be recruited. If there was ever a problem, it was his location. Onderon was a bad omen to say the least. Fenix desperately needed to hide her wish never to see these places ever again. With luck, she would only see the city of Iziz. The pattern of recent events however, suggested that no matter what happened there was always more shit that was going to be thrown in her direction.

* * *

Liam Arcturus returned to his office from another haphazard Senate hearing. The tiresome role he assumed of making appearances never got old, but it always took a lot out of him. His good looks were long gone; his marriage had gotten boring for both of them and worst of all, he was getting nowhere with his investigation. He had spread his accounts somewhat thin across several locations of the same bank with the intent of acquiring access, but even he couldn't get anywhere near the information with a security clearance. It might have been a dead end, but his own political capital was accomplishing nothing. He had thought about trying to get the information by illegal means but he quickly pushed it from his mind. This man watched Arcturus more closely than the bitchy media did. This would be suicide.

His private computer screen went black again. It was a sign that he was being contacted. A password box appeared and upon his answering, the scrambled voice of his secret employer began to speak.

"You've been rather busy with your time, Senator."

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

The one on the other end of the comm. paused for a moment. "Am I on speaker? Put on your damn headphones!"

Arcturus had just plugged them in and remotely dimmed the lights and shades in his office. "What do you want?"

"You're beginning to worry me, Senator."

"Why? Afraid I know something about you?"

"Not at all," the other replied. "But your private transport records have you flying to…let's see here: Corellia, Alderaan, Telos, Muunilinst, and then back to Corellia. You do realize that only one of those places contains people that vote for you, right?"

"And your point is?"

"Well if you keep this up, I'm sure the media will start asking you questions and you probably don't want them breathing down your neck, especially considering the amazing things you've accomplished on Corellia in the recent weeks. I thought I'd contact you to give you the information about the secret compound you facilitated so you could see what all your hard work for me has accomplished."

"And I obviously know that this isn't a trap, how?"

"A trap?" The mystery fellow actually sounded confused for a split second. "Like I'm going to kidnap a highly prestigious politician of the Republic, an instrumental player in the turmoil to come; you wound me, Senator. There is indeed a plan in motion. I thought perhaps you'd like to see it. Write this down."

Arcturus wrote down the coordinates but before he could inquire more about it, the line was disconnected. He sighed and let out a light curse again. He had lost this game. A small thought entered his mind that perhaps he could call the police and investigate, but this guy was too good. He would see it coming a mile away. It was more likely the case that this location was merely a gateway to the next by which only he would be able to go and by the time he got to where he was supposed to, even he wouldn't know where he'd be.

He'd probably make the trip this coming weekend. He could probably use the rest. Maybe his wife would finally show some gratitude and open her legs.

* * *

_Dawn of a new Kraxis Day…_

The weather was about as predictable as Revan was. Over the next thirty two hours, it could shine, rain, humidify, dry up, darken, brighten, or none of the above. At the moment, the clouds were getting thicker and if there was one thing Yuthura didn't like about this planet, it was that she didn't know what that was going to mean. At least things back at base had been running smoothly for the last few days. Dutch had shipped out for the _Lone Wolf_ with a couple of other men they had to spare and they were making good time. Trek was standing by in an isolated quadrant of space waiting for them.

"You are sure this disturbance led you here?" Yuthura said with some hesitation. It was always a gamble questioning Revan's motives. She liked to think that she was doing him a favor as a friend and lieutenant and Revan was not used to being questioned by anyone other than her, Trek, and Dustil. Still, it seemed worth asking.

"Yes," Revan replied. "A mild disturbance was what I felt, like a whisper that I wasn't meant to hear. But I heard it. There's something going on in this field."

Yuthura looked around her again. It was a barren open field with its own nature and untouched by civilization. It was only twenty kilometers to the east of Lamborgia and through a narrow pass between two large mountains called the Lamborgia Straight but Yuthura saw nothing of interest. The clouds were thick enough to block the sun, but it was still fairly bright amid the light drizzle of rain that dampened their clothing.

Revan's eyes were closed. Yuthura could feel some energy being drawn to him like blood through veins. He was reaching out with the Force. Yuthura was always curious as to how wide a range he could do it. Sometimes, it seemed like Revan's perceptions were limited. It had to be that, because it would be at these moments where he would scramble for information. At other times, Revan would tell her in his meditation chambers that a Sith Fleet was exploring a nearby star system. She would check the radar systems and he would be right. _His abilities may be selective, but at least he trusts himself more than he trusts the Force_. Yuthura looked up and saw some clouds swirling overhead and a flash of lightning.

Revan's eyes opened wide. "It's a trap." He said softly, but Yuthura heard him. Revan turned to the rest of the scouting group. "It's a trap! Mount up! We're leaving! _Now!_"

He did not need to repeat the order. Six of the eight that came along mounted their speeder bikes and bolted back to the base.

Yuthura had to ask, but before she could, she already saw it. The ground darkened from the shade of an uncloaking Sith dreadnought that was in atmosphere and directly above them.

"_Oh, no…_"

She could already see the pods falling from the sky. Some were heading straight for them, others were heading on an intercept path. And others were heading straight for Lamborgia. There were at least a dozen but there was bound to be more on the way. Each pod was big enough to hold a squadron of men or a small unit of Sith.

"_Hey!_" Revan yelled. "Snap out of it! Head back to base right now and do not engage the enemy if you can help it."

Revan didn't need to repeat the command. She climbed on the last speeder with Garrisson and they bolted. "Keep the bike revved up!" she shouted to overcome the loudness of the engine. "I'll deal with any chasers!" Garrisson nodded.

Yuthura might have regretted that statement because one turned into three and in another blink turned into five. Yuthura drew out her lightsaber as the first shots started firing.

The last two pods on the first wave headed straight for Revan, who had not yet moved. As they touched down, Revan drew two plasma mines like they were discs and spun them straight for the pods. He jumped on his bike and raced off. As the pod doors opened, the explosion incinerated them in half a second. From the distance Revan reached already, they looked like two candles off the ground.

His scouting unit was already taking hits. Three of his men went down from their bikes and their bikes crashed into the rocky dirt with the Sith moving on. There was nothing to do for them. As he looked up, he saw the second wave of pods already beginning to fall. If this was going to be a full invasion, the Sith would be sending in heavy landing craft in fifteen minutes. Despite the distance to Lamborgia, the mountain pair between always gave signal trouble. Their landing would not be detected by anyone else until Revan got back to the base to warn them.

Revan revved up to the next gear and accelerated. Whipping out _Heart of the Guardian_, he swerved out to the right and cut straight across the gap between the Sith and three of his men they were chasing. With his left hand spinning the lightsaber like a spiked wheel, he smashed the fronts of the Sith speeder bikes and sent all four bikes flipping over and slamming into the ground.

After a thank-you nod, Revan back tracked and let the rest of his men move through the Straight. There were more Sith to deal with an Yuthura was not in sight. The next wave of pods was already beginning to hit the ground. "Computer!" he yelled into the built-in computer Jace designed for his bike. "Set automatic course for Yuthura Ban!"

"Calculating Route" Jace's voice responded. That was the only part of the computer he didn't like.

As Revan eased back from the controls, he reached out with the Force and found the three highest pods. They were going to hit in four seconds. Revan let loose and flipped them upside down. At first the pods began go backwards but Revan gripped them with the Force and slammed them down. The impact drove the pod an extra four meters underground and the dirt filled up all around, burying them alive in a matter of minutes.

When he reopened his eyes, he saw where the bike was taking him. Yuthura and Garrisson had gone around the southern mountain; that is until they were forced off their bike on elevated territory. They hid in cover behind the bike holding out against the incoming squadrons of Sith forces.

"_C'mon!_" Yuthura yelled as she blasted another soldier in the stomach. "I'm right here!" Yuthura climbed up a step and started rolling sideways, dodging lasers. Garrisson remained behind cover. One shot almost hit her, but Yuthura backflipped up to even higher ground.

Revan skidded his bike to a half and smashed over three of the Sith's speeders. As he jumped out, he reignited _Heart of the Guardian_ and _Mantle of the Force_ and started chopping. With grace, he raked _Mantle_ across the belly of a soldier and followed through with a double stab to the next.

The Sith shifted their attention to him after three more went down. They began backing up against Revan and firing at him. Yuthura and Garrisson pressed their advantage. One man had a grenade. Revan rushed him…

But he threw it before Revan could disarm him. The grenade landed at Garrisson's speeder bike.

"Fire in the hole!" Yuthura yelled, but Garrisson didn't see it. Yuthura dove backwards and further up the hill. Garrisson began to roll but the explosion knocked him into the rocks. His charred body bounced from the rocks and landed in the dirt. His last gasp could not be heard over the noise of battle.

Yuthura rushed over to him but it was too late. Revan stabbed the last Sith warrior in the chest, pulled out, and severed his head with a dual swing.

"Yuthura! We have to go! Now!"

Yuthura cursed and sprinted after him. They boarded Revan's bike and took off for the Straight. They had to backtrack and witness more pods landing. As they entered the mountain passed, Revan saw some of the landing crafts exit the dreadnought. The Sith that had landed were following in armored vehicles as Revan and Yuthura entered the Straight.

"Take the helm," Revan said as he swung around Yuthura with one hand still on the dash. Yuthura scooted up ahead and grabbed his hand. Revan held on as he stood off the side of the bike. With his other hand, he reached out with the Force and brought the first armored hovercraft into the ground by the nose. The hovercraft flipped upside down and its mounted gun was wrenched off and crashed into the car behind it. The third and forth car went around it and continued.

"Take the speeder back to base and prep it for attack!"

"Where the _fuck_ could you possibly be going!"

"I'm heading into the city." Revan let go of her hand and backflipped off the speeder. He landed on the hovercraft. His legs wobbled and he almost fell off, but he regained his balance as he turned around. Yuthura looked at him like he was yet again about to do something crazy but he waved her off. As Yuthura exited the passageway, she accelerated. The bike kicked off dust as it sped away. As soon as the hovercraft Revan was on exited the pass, Revan swooped down into the gun turret and delivered a hard kick to both drivers in the face.

He grabbed the turret, swung it around, and let loose on the craft behind him. At the rate of ten thousand high velocity thermal laser rounds per minute, the vehicle spun away blasted into a ball of fire.

Revan opened the doors and kicked both the drivers out. He saw them bounce away on the side view mirrors. Yuthura would be at the base by now but Revan had more pressing plans. The third wave of pods the Sith launched had already landed into Lamborgia and there would no doubt be a fourth wave soon. The Sith were likely mobilizing their own police and honor guard forces in the area for a full scale counter-insurgency with no care for civilian casualties.

It took him a few minutes to fully sync with the controls. The crew may never have let him fly but that didn't stop him from learning how to drive. He punched it.

* * *

_We would like to wish you all a Happy Veterans Day, as well as a Happy Skyrim Day. As a brief authors' note, we would also like to inform you that the action you experienced at the end of this chapter, compared to the action that you will experience in the next chapter, is the equivalent of a dog pissing on your leg in a splash fight. When we publish Chapter 13 on December 15 (Gipper's birthday), you will hopefully understand why we took so long with it._

_Please review our story._

- _Gipper 40 & Sarge42_


	13. Chapter 13: The Battle of Lamborgia

**Part I**

**Reemergence**

* * *

**Chapter 13  
**

**The Battle of Lamborgia**

* * *

Yuthura parked Revan's speeder into the garage and ordered it sealed after lowering into the bunker. She moved to the nearest intercom. "This is Yuthura Ban," she called out. "The Sith are attacking Lamborgia and they are targeting us. Full battle alert; seal all exterior base entrances except for those underground. Ready all weapons and defense systems. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is _not_ a drill!"

The red alarm sounded off throughout the base and the soldiers began suiting up. Alpha and Bravo squadrons, units with twenty soldiers each were the first ready and were heading underground. "Stand by," Yuthura said to them when they were in the tunnels and had reached the elevator units on the east side of the base. If the Sith swarmed the entrance, they could be cut off or split in half.

Delta, Gamma, and Hellscream squadrons suited up and covered the exterior entrances. "Keep them inside!" Yuthura ordered. "I don't want them exposed when the bombs start dropping." She knew what they were whispering. Hopefully the fortification and insulation they had spent months working on would hold up. It was an old structure but it had withstood bombings for centuries and the weathering of nature. That still didn't make it one hundred percent safe.

The technicians began to seal the doors and Yuthura arrived at the command center finally. The last full-strength squadron – Snake Squad was now prepped and they were moving through the tunnel past Alpha and Bravo. Snake was a group of lightly armed and lightly vested recon teams. Their mission was to quietly shut down the underground train tunnels in Lamborgia without starting a panic. Yuthura wasn't sure how cooperative the administration would be and if the Sith might be controlling or watching over them as well, so it seemed like the safest option.

Revan's transponder was on but his communicator was off. Radar showed him moving through the streets in the Sith hovercraft. Normally she could contact him through the computer on the speeder bike, but since Revan wasn't driving it that plan was also shot.

"Are the recon teams alerted?" she asked.

"Yes," responded her chief surveillance specialist, Ario Dack. "Do you want me to recall them?"

"No," said Yuthura. "We're set up as best as we can be. But Revan may need their help. Send them Revan's frequency but tell them that they are not to make a move until the Sith show themselves."

"Sith landing craft incoming, Northwest Quadrant, directly west of Zixnikel Plaza!" said another surveillance specialist.

Zixnikel Plaza was the tallest skyscraper in Lamborgia and a luxurious hotel. It was one of three major landmarks that defined the city. The second landmark was in the southwest quadrant just south of the artificial canal that connected Lamborgia to the Siamese Twin Rivers three kilometers outside to the far west. That landmark was a giant and brightly lit corporate logo the size of fifteen billboards that stood out above everything else in the night. Keeping it lit required its own bundle of generators. The third landmark was closest to the rebel base. It was a memorial for the Lamborgia Guard and its hero, Olver Krester, the man who slew the Grand Apprentice eleven centuries ago in single combat and thus prevented the Sith from sacking the city during its invasion. The factual history of this event was partially disputed by some scholars but the memorial existed regardless. The memorial was a massive marble statue of a bare-chested and head-shaved Krester standing tall holding up a spear in defensive position; outside the fountain that surrounded the statue were smaller double-life size statues of the rest of the honor guard standing at their post with their spears. What made it a unique landmark was not its visibility on the street but its visibility from satellite view as well as manual radar.

Yuthura looked again at Revan's transponder. "He's heading that way now. Alert recon teams and tell them where the Sith are located. She turned back to Ario Dack. "What's our scanner on the Lamborgia Straight telling us?"

"No sign of movement since you and Revan came through."

"Keep an eye on it," she barked. "There were more pods and more landers touching down behind."

"Captain!" another analyst called to her. "Sith ground teams have touched down in Viper pods two klicks west, just outside the Lamborgia gates. Alpha and Bravo teams can move to intercept."

"Negative," said Yuthura. "Let them make the first move." Her transponder began to buzz. The alert on the screen said that Revan had turned it back on. "Revan," she called. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he said, with static in his voice. "The Sith will jam our comm. soon enough. I'm heading for Zixnikel Plaza. Get the recon teams away from the area. The Sith came here for me. I mean to draw their attention."

"But how will you…?"

"Get them sheltered in the corner buildings they've practiced in and tell them Guerilla Pattern Zero." Before Yuthura could respond, Revan switched off his comm. There was no time to argue. She moved to obey.

* * *

The noise of chaos was getting louder. More pods were crashing down and Sith soldiers were trigger happy already. Revan passed two dead civilians on a stoop and as he drove through, terrified civilians backed away from him and tried to get indoors. _Better that they seek shelter at the sight of a Sith car._

Though his driving was more than reckless, the Sith soldiers did not pay him much attention. Revan assumed that they didn't get a close enough look. Zixnikel Plaza was approaching and as one Sith landing craft exited, two more were touching down. In twenty minutes, the Sith would have at least three hundred soldiers in Lamborgia. Already there were Sith fighters wreaking havoc on buildings the Sith assumed were occupied with rebel hostiles. They were wrong about all of them but that didn't matter. Civilian deaths were not a concern for the True Sith at this time.

Revan parked the car to a halt in a massive five-way intersection just south and east of the Plaza. As he got out, he booby trapped the door with two plasma mines – one under the seat for the door, and the other between the fuel cells on the bottom. He also opened one of them so it would spill fuel on the ground underneath to cause a bigger fire. Revan grabbed the mounted turret with both hands and yanked with his full strength. After a minute, he dislodged the gun and jumped off from the top. He entered an L-shaped building on the northeast side and took the elevator straight to the top. It was a clean office building and Revan had made notice of it because its roof exposed a great deal of the Lamborgia skyline and the tower.

The turret was the heaviest turret he had ever carried in his life. It made the Ordo Rifle feel like a slingshot. Revan kicked the door to the roof open and placed a cinderblock to keep it ajar. As he proceeded to the edge of the tower, he noticed a ladder to his left. _That could come in handy_.

Revan looked down and then looked up. The two Sith landers coming down were almost ready to drop its platoons on the roof of Zixnikel and men were filing out of the bottom of the building by the dozens. On the southern road adjacent to the Plaza, Revan spotted an armored unit heading towards the intersection. When they reached it, they would turn left and they would have a straight shot for the rebel compound. _They know where we are_. The direct road – Lamborgia Avenue was a path Revan had carefully avoided because the Sith had already controlled it. It would not be safe for anyone but them.

Revan closed his eyes and reached out for the landers. As soon as the Force found them, he grabbed them. It was already taking a lot out of him but he had to pull. _C'mon, Revan, pull. PULL! _The engines of the landers squealed and sparked from resistance as the crafts were dragged away from the roof of the tower. Revan turned them vertical and brought them together. They did not collide with impact but as soon as they hit, Revan let go and let gravity take care of the rest. The landers had their fusion thrusters but their weak armor on the bottom caused a light fusing and tied them in a knot. They went down together and made a massive crater in the road.

The armored team below had sped up their vehicles to avoid it and were now directly in front of the wreckage and thus now in Revan's line of sight. Revan grabbed the turret and opened fire.

Two minutes later, there was nothing left on the street but a pile of smoking corpses, two of them True Sith, flaming sheets of armor and broken glass. Revan checked the bar, the gun was nearly empty. _I need another kill_.

His answer seemed to come when three snub aircraft zoomed right over Revan's head. The two flanking fighters broke off and the leader came around for a pass. Revan let go of the turret and began running the other way. His feet danced around the incoming lasers like he was dodging drops of rain. As the fighter got closer, he rolled to his left and let the fighter pass. Predictably, the pilot pulled up before he could hit the roof and moved away. _He's not done with me yet_.

Revan raced back to the turret. As he neared it, he grabbed _Heart of the Guardian_ and sliced off the barrel. He wasn't sure if this plan would work, but at the very least it would piss off the pilot. The flanking aircraft were nowhere in sight. It was just him and one cocky pilot. As he turned to see the ship heading for him again, he picked up the sliced-off barrel and hurled it with the Force straight for it. Like a shrapnel-size projectile, the barrel hit the cockpit dead on and made a dent in the glass. The barrel bounced and danced its way to the ground; the pilot was thrown off from course and veered to the left. He would give a narrow birth when coming around again, expecting another chase. Revan picked up the rest of the gun and hurled it even harder at the ship, just as its turn reached the angle of entry.

The turret broke through the glass of the cockpit and stuck there, facing the pilot. Revan closed his eyes and found the trigger.

The turret turned red with overheating before it exploded in the pilot's face and knocked out all the controls. The ship spun away and crashed into the Zixnikel Plaza main tower.

_Now where are the other two…_

An explosion came from behind. Revan turned ninety degrees and looked over the edge. Three dead enemy soldiers lay ten meters away from the ball of fire that used to be the hovercraft Revan rode in on.

But before Revan could smile, his muscles tensed. The Force had another message for him; he need only look up.

When he did, he saw the next hailstorm. Three dozen jericho-sized bombs fell straight for the roof of the L-shaped building. Too many to deflect, and once the missiles separated into clusters, _way_ too many to deflect; there was only one way out.

With no buildings near, Revan darted to the southeast and jumped off the corner. The fall brought him to a lower roof of the building, but still not safe from the bombs. Below the building, a third team of soldiers were waiting at the bottom to ambush him. _One Sith leader,_ he noticed. That was their next mistake, but if Revan didn't get off the building, they might live to not regret it.

The first explosion rocked the building and almost threw Revan off balance just as he vaulted off. As he flipped downward, both lightsabers ignited and the rest of the bombs hit. Revan hit the ground and started spinning. He cut through two men and then a third before the rest could even blink. He raked _Mantle of the Force_ across the eyes of another hostile and not a moment too soon because he felt the other blade clash resistance from the incoming strike from the Sith. Revan stomped the Sith's foot and kneed the groin, sliding under his legs as the Sith winced in the brief pain. He spun around and knocked the sword out of the Sith's hands and kicked him back in the face. Revan rolled away and kept running. The other three soldiers left alive were firing his way, but the falling shards of glass and metal from the roof of the building rained down on them and killed them before they could tag him.

_I think I have their attention now. Time to regroup and push them out._ That meant heading back to base the direct way. It also meant that it was time to buzz Yuthura again.

* * *

Yuthura helped rush the last injured soldier to the med bay. They had casualties of two dozen men, fifteen of which, Yuthura wasn't sure would pull through from their injuries. But they had made the Sith bleed. The brunt of the Sith attack on the city had targeted the base and while Revan was off doing whatever the hell he was doing, they had been holding out. For every man that went down on the rebels, the Sith lost ten of theirs. Every single trap that Revan had thought to set up around the three main entrances had done the job of slowing the Sith down to a crawl with a body getting tossed into the sky from an explosion every now and then, and while the automated turrets that had been brought to line the windows left bodies stacked up on one another, the breached entrances had done the job of funneling the Sith into a narrow space where they could be overwhelmed through equal and thus superior firepower.

That was not to say the Sith hadn't gotten tricky. Several adept Sith acolytes had clawed like savages on the roof and through sheer strength and the Force, several of them breached. Yuthura was distracted for several minutes in dealing with them like a cat & mouse chase through the base and when she won out, sealing the breach was another challenge.

But the major attack was stopped short for now. There was still Sith in the city and her radar analysts detected more waves of Sith that were regrouping outside Zixnikel Plaza and other heavy convoys that were joining up along Lamborgia Avenue towards the base. The first attack had thankfully not been a siege. Yuthura bet that in the next attack, they wouldn't be as lucky.

"Revan to Yuthura," a whispered familiar voice sounded from her pocket. She picked up her comm. "Can you read me?"

"I read you, Revan. Good to know you're still alive. You holding up okay?"

"A few scratches; no wounds. How's your strength?"

Yuthura gave him the quick update. "We had to reallocate the ground units back to defenses to hold out. We needed the manpower. We're safe for now, but I'm detecting another regrouping outside the plaza and some convoys on the main road. Isn't that where you are?"

"Roger," said Revan. "Have the civilians been evacuated from the underground tunnels?"

"Yes," Yuthura had briefly forgotten about them. "No incidents down there from the last report ten minutes ago."

"Good. I'm going to need some help getting back to you."

"What happened to the hovercraft you stole?"

"It's on fire."

"Can you steal another one?"

"Maybe, but by the time I get the chance, they'll have regrouped in full for a second attack. There are still Sith coming down. They could be ready in a few minutes, or a few hours. Where are the recon teams?"

"We lost contact with them," Yuthura admitted. We've been trying, but I've had my hands full."

"I'll recon from up here. I've got a view of some of their movement. I got their attention once. I'll need backup before I do it again. Hopefully I was able to cut off some of their strength in the first attack."

Yuthura didn't know how to respond to that, partly because she didn't even know what Revan did.

"Keep trying to reach the recon teams," said Revan. "If Alpha and Bravo squads are still functional, send them up."

* * *

One hour and forty minutes had passed. The noise had died down a bit but Revan's nerves were clawing. His new position was on the stairwell of the second story of a brick building approximately one kilometer from the rebel base. He had removed a single brick to give him a plain view of the activity. One kilometer away was as far as he could make it without so much as a squeak but now he had two problems. The larger Sith teams were holding position in the next two adjacent buildings and they had been extremely thorough in blocking off all other entrances. Revan felt a little sandwiched in but they didn't know where he was. The other and much bigger problem was that the main Sith force was on the move. With his and Yuthura's efforts to reach the recon teams having failed, time had been wasted and all Revan could do was to keep his head down while he moved.

The Sith may have underestimated how tough the rebels would be and how heavily entrenched they were in their base and they may have planned for a rebel smack-down but that did not mean that they had not come fully prepared for battle. The strength and mobilization speed meant for a quick war was executed flawlessly and yet they had taken so many precautions. The professionalism was almost admirable.

The failure to get in touch with the recon team was partially his fault. Guerilla Tactic Zero was small-team recon tactic Revan created during the Jedi Civil War. It was an experiment he meant to use against the Mandalorians but never had the opportunity. The idea was to take away the enemy's advantage without them realizing it. Small, stealthy, and merciless teams of killers would keep off the communication grid, scout out, and silently take down vulnerable enemy units and eliminate all trace of presence. If it worked, the enemy's strength could be decimated by as much as half. However, because the teams were dark, even the main force on the same side would not be aware of what the shadow teams were doing or if they were successful, and therefore would psychologically stay alert and play it safe, particularly when on the defensive. Revan had trained the rebel recon teams to play this out, but he had also given them the ability to receive an emergency communication, just in case none of it worked.

That meant one of two things. Either the recon teams were not in a position to expose themselves to the communication grid at the risk of getting jammed by the Sith, or they were all dead.

The new main force for the Sith attackers was split into three groups. Three well-armed and well-equipped platoons of soldiers with a few Force adepts at their side were at the front. Revan deduced that they would expose themselves to the fire from the rebels and thus give time for the second group which consisted of armor and artillery, to get into position to bombard the base and reduce it to rubble. And the third group, which was twice the size of the first and likewise consisting of infantry with several True Sith warriors that would be ready to storm the compound after it was breeched to do a full sweep and clear out all the rebels. A common tactic when it came to attacking a base, and especially effective in the city environment when you already control the main roads and if you have specialist forces moving along the rooftops at the same pace that could assist. Revan could only detect stationary forces on scattered rooftops that waited for the main ground force to pass them, but that would be more than enough for them.

One thing was for sure. If the Sith got into the position to siege the base, all hope for a victory would be lost.

* * *

_Recon Team X…_

It was a group of four men. Burly and rugged, but silent as wolves in the night, they crossed the alleys on the southern side of Lamborgia Avenue, taking care to hide from the Sith specialist groups that were camped on the roof of the building right above them.

The leader, Rik Drenton held up a first to signal a halt. The second man, Quinn came up to his right and Drenton gestured him to look up at the top of where the ladder/fire escape to confirm the sight. After a quick glance, he nodded. Looking back, he signaled a vertical V with his two palms, meaning that there was a claymore planted up there. Drenton suspected as much. He held up his left two fingers, gestured them up one and then a horizontal cut-off.

The third and forth men on the team complied immediately. Colt Davon and Edd Junior took up the first ladder to the second story and opened the window. Peaking in for two seconds and giving the clear, they stepped inside and closed the window. Drenton and Quinn crouched beside a dumpster and continued looking up. Their vision was obscured but if a Sith unit appeared there, they'd see him. Meanwhile the fire escape would hide them.

Davon and Junior crossed the hallway and located the stairs. They were right at the midpoint of the building and the indoor staircase was divided into two flights; the bottom-most on the western side, and the upper-half on the eastern. Junior made note of one man guarding the entrance at the bottom and then moved away from it. It would be a mistake to engage him, since he'd most likely be the first person the rest of the Sith would see when they moved along the road that would assure them that everything was okay. They only needed to worry about the men at the top anyway.

Davon was first up the stairs and he peaked through the door. Junior joined him as he was looking. The six-man squad of enemy soldiers at the top was stationary at the edge facing the road with only two of their men making occasional rounds on the roof. But Davon noticed that those men weren't looking for signs of trouble on the roof itself. They'd be looking on the other buildings. They exited through the door, closed it, and moved quickly out of sight. Davon motioned to Junior where the claymore was and Junior quietly scurried over. He pulled out a small shock baton and shortened out the claymore, giving him time to fully disarm it. From there he climbed down the ladder one story and signaled to Drenton and Quinn to come up.

As Drenton and Quinn made it up, Davon had already knocked out one of the guards and dragged him away before he could be noticed. Not a sound was heard. From behind the wall of the stair entrance, Davon snapped the unconscious man's neck twice and buried his dagger into his chest. The twist and pull ripped the heart in half and almost pulled part of it out with the blade, but Davon knew how to keep it clean.

Junior passed Davon and looked over on the western side. The Sith army was coming but was still a little ways away. The rain had stopped finally but Lamborgia was still a little misty and hazy from the thick clouds overhead. Gas was the preferred option here. It would not be seen by the army, and it would most likely also not be seen by the Sith encamped on the other side of the street. When the masks were on, Drenton gave the signal and Quinn plucked the pin and rolled a gas grenade at the squad. Junior shot the other patroller with a suppressed laser blast in the nick of time of being detected. The other men started choking and coughing but before they could get any words out on their communicator, Recon X was on them.

Because the ledge stood about one meter high, Drenton, Quinn, Davon, and Junior tackled them and brought the Sith soldiers to unconsciousness on the ground, so to be hidden from the men on the other side of the road. When the men were dead, Drenton put on the hat of their commander and began taking inventory of the enemy's equipment. The other three men dragged the bodies along the side of the building so they would not be detected and after five minutes, they got them behind the stairwell on the backside, where they could use the hacksaws.

The body disposal was simple. They'd cut off the limbs and the head. The torso would go into the dumpster. The heads would be put into a bag and secured in one of the building's closets. The limbs would be put into different bags and scattered to different places. Even if one of these body parts was discovered by the Sith, they'd have to launch a day-long scavenger hunt to acquire everything else and put the pieces together. Twenty minutes of work and all trace of their exploits were gone. They rejoined Drenton at the roof and donned the soldier helmets for appearances.

"Alright," said Drenton. Quinn, I want your eyes on the two north buildings at all times. If you really did see Revan sneaking his way through the north side, my guess is that he'll be over there. If the enemy soldiers do anything different, let me know.

"Are you sure we ought to stay dark and not return contact to either Revan or Yuthura?" Junior asked.

"Too risky," Drenton shook his head. "But I know Revan is somewhere on the other side. If I were him, I'd hide either in the alley behind that building between the two specialist squads or in the stairwell inside. You know he won't be getting past the second building without drawing attention from either side. And there's no way in hell he'll be trying to access its roof. That's suicide." Junior nodded and that was the end of that discussion.

"Shouldn't we be moving out of here and scouting out another patrol?" Davon asked.

"Not anymore," said Drenton. "This fight is coming to a close. If we're going to stay alive and do our jobs, now that we're right in the eye of the storm on the main attack, we need to stay put and wait for the attack to happen. If the Sith radio this team and order us to move up closer, we'll do it. But we can't expose ourselves. Not until the opportunity presents itself."

"Yuthura's not going to like this…"

"Let me worry about that. Enough talk. Keep your eyes on the road." The first wave of Sith soldiers were beginning to pass underneath the building.

"Hold a sec, boss," Quinn chimed in. "North-eastern building roof, behind the Sith. _It's Revan!_"

* * *

Revan peered through the crack of the door he opened less than an inch.

_Five men: two of them snipers, and one regular. One demolition package; they look like they'll flank the base._

Revan kept an eye on the guards as he thought about his options. They weren't patrolling the rooftop. He might be able to hide his movements with the Force to supplement the light-stepping, but the furthest he'd be able to go to the right-side of the roof entrance, where he'd be concealed from most of the squad. If they started moving or patrolling however, the odds that they'd see him were pretty high. He couldn't go the other way because there was another squad on the adjacent roof and they had established a connector between them. Revan was more than sure that he could take out both squads with speed, but not without alerting the army on the street below to where he was. The first couple of platoons were hustling forward and the base was now in sight. But it would still be a little while before the tanks were in position. He was out of options.

A quick breath and he was off. The door lightly closed itself behind him and he rolled to the right and tiptoed around behind the entrance till he was out of sight. One eye peered around the corner to see if he had alerted them. He had not.

There was a small part of the environment in his favor. Three large but empty storage crates rested right where he was. Revan pushed the first over to the structural wall and moved it slightly to the left. Then he picked up another one and stuck it on top. The third one he planted just behind it. Now he was behind the wall and not directly in the line of sight for a patrolman that might come his way and those on the roof to the east would not see him.

With his position as secure as it was ever going to get, Revan knelt down, shut his eyes, and reached out with the Force.

The heartbeats of the enemy drummed a rhythmic beat. Each one was distinct, and yet they were all the same. Through the Force, Revan could hear them. He could feel them. His presence moved through them slowly and gingerly. He breached the metal exterior and found the inner capsule. The nervous man sat at the controls. _His first time in battle_, Revan thought. Unfortunately it would be his last. The mind distracted by too many fears was always the most vulnerable.

"_Listen to me_," Revan whispered into him. This would have to be a very careful speech. "_Your name is Lucas Stemkover, is it not? You are nervous about battle. You fear the morality of what you are about to unleash upon this world. Calm your mind. You, Lucas, who was chastised by your family for being weak and wished to prove your worth, but your physical limitations blocked your path, so you discovered this. Yet now that you have come so far, you worry that you may have pursued the wrong path. And now that you have doubts, you are worried about you having doubts. If the adepts heard your thoughts, they would no doubt be concerned. You don't know what to do. You want a way out, but you do not see one._"

The man was getting more nervous. Revan could feel it in him. "_You need not fear me. I am a friend. Trust me. Calm your nerves._" He took a deep breath, and straightened his posture slightly. Revan had won. "_You have all the power, now._" Revan told him. "_Kill the Sith. Kill them all. Fire!_"

In a flash, one of the front-most platoons exploded into half-strength. The heavy battery of the tank let out another blast that tore limbs from a Sith warrior and decimated another platoon.

"_Now drive. DRIVE!_" The tank veered off to the left and the driver slammed it into reverse. Before the escorts could even know what hit them, their bodies were ripped in half from the impact of the backwards speeding tank. The canon fired again, this time at a Sith hovercraft. Another shot took down a platoon that was now returning fire. The driver swerved some of the shots while still driving backwards and aimed his gun at the tank that used to ride alongside him. It was almost about to fire on him. Lucas let loose around first. The shell slammed into the back of the enemy tank, but it wasn't enough to stop it from firing.

The armor and shields held off the first blast but it weakened significantly from the second. Lucas thrusted forward and fired one more shot. The blast hit the enemy tank in the same place and exploded on impact. The explosion from the tank shook the ground and knocked several men over. The final tank had turned around fully and was charging. "_Keep pushing forward. Hit the tank! Crash into it! DO IT!_" Revan screamed into Lucas' head and the driver complied.

The tank accelerated forward to engage the enemy tank but the enemy tank fired first. Now the third blast, destroyed all shields and set fire to the front of the hull. Lucas fired off one more shot that crippled the shields of the other tank and then thrust ahead full burn into the collision. The impact created a shockwave that knocked over everyone, Sith included, and destroyed the glass from the windows on the bottom stories of the buildings. Both tanks were on fire. "_The Sith must never take you. Push the self-destruct button. You will live! I shall protect you!_"

But Revan would not protect him. Two True Sith Warriors jumped on top of the tank and were prying open the hatch. As they breached, Lucas caved and pressed the button. The explosion sent what was left of their bodies flying in all directions and caused another explosion in the other tank. The other men got its driver out safely but could not save him from his injuries.

The Sith forces were in disarray. They still had numbers but they were scattered and barely organized. It was only then that Revan could locate their leader, but before he could do anything, his senses started to tingle.

The curse left his lips but he made no sound. He didn't even have to peak around the corner. The guard was coming his way. In just a few more seconds, he'd turn the corner. Revan drew _Mantle of the Force_, the quieter of the two lightsabers.

_Steady…_

…But as the man came around the corner, his head exploded. A quiet laser blast ripped straight through it and Revan caught the body as he fell. Revan dragged the fresh slumped corpse to the left and pushed the crates a little further so he'd have room to hide. He peaked his head around again and took out a small telescope.

_Hell of a way to make contact…_ he thought as he saw Rik Drenton wearing a Sith army hat. Drenton noticed him and gave a slight nod. Revan didn't need to return it. Revan moved forward, keeping his back against the wall. The rest of the Sith specialist group at the top were still oblivious to his presence.

The cue they gave him was more than obvious. In an instant, all five guards were Force pulled backward and lying down with their heads inward like a star. As they began to rise to face him, Revan hopped over them, switching on _Heart of the Guardian_ and _Mantle of the Force_ and he began to swipe. Less than two seconds passed and all five guards dead in their same position with deep cauterized gashes on their faces.

Revan turned to deflect the incoming laser blasts from the squad on the adjacent roof but a barrage of sniper fire from Recon X knocked over half of them, splitting the attention of the surviving members. By the time they turned back to face Revan, he was already on them. Their ends were brought upon as quickly as the sniper blasts.

He looked down to the road. The Sith were still dousing out the tank fires and dragging their wounded away from the wreckages. It would be a few minutes before they could mobilize again, even at their speed. _A lot can happen in a minute_. Quinn was reloading his sniper rifle, which was taking him forever, since he had never used the weapon before, but Junior was the first to spot trouble.

The True Sith Warrior had climbed the building with his bare hands by the bricks in plain view and Junior sloppily fired a sniper blast at him. As the Sith reached the roof, less than a foot from where Revan was standing, he lashed out his arm and blocked the laser. He grimaced at Junior for a moment, which was all Revan needed. He swiped at the Sith twice, the first swipe taking off the Sith's right ear, and the second swipe raking vertically down on the Sith's face. Revan delivered a hard front kick and knocked the bewildered warrior off the building. Revan caught the Sith by the arm.

…And then sliced it off.

He felt the next Sith coming. They all knew where he was now. The warrior jumped to the top of the backside of the building and lunged. Revan could not turn to face him. The Sith let out a roar as he tackled Revan straight over the edge.

_This is going to hurt…_

Revan raised his arms, his forearms over his head to protect it and he tucked his head in. He hit the ground before he could blink. His body told him to roll and he went with it. Once he started, he couldn't stop it. He must have rolled four times, but somehow his momentum stopped and he dizzily struggled to his feet. The Sith beat him to it and was already charging.

The hard fist of the enemy knocked him square in the jaw and sent him staggering backward.

Revan could feel the wear and tear now. He was getting tired from the fight. The resting period between with all the stealthy behavior hadn't helped. _I have to keep at it_. The second fist was an uppercut to the abdomen. Revan felt like the Sith just made a hole and thus he couldn't stop the Sith from grabbing him and flipping him over his shoulder down to the road with a hard thud.

Revan didn't even bother opening his eyes. The Sith's foot was headed straight for his face. With all his strength, he rolled backwards and kicked his feet straight upward into the Sith's face. With the momentum from that plus his hands pushing off the ground, he back flipped in the air and landed upright. His lightsabers were somewhere else at the moment. He Force pushed the Sith backward and then brought him inward. The Sith would have been launched straight past Revan's shoulder, but Revan's right elbow was in position. Upon impact, half the Sith's teeth were smashed in and his head knocked backward as his body fell forward.

On his way down, Revan's shin caught him straight in the groin. The Sith was on the ground and not about to recover from the pain any time soon but Revan had enough of him. Revan could see only one of his lightsabers rolling around on the road. He reached for it with the Force and it made its way to him. _Heart of the Guardian_ ignited in the air with a _snap-hiss_, but before Revan could plunge it into the Sith, a heroically stupid human soldier began firing at him. Revan deflected the shots and bounced one back at him. He could now hear Recon X going loud while engaging the incoming soldiers. He might need to keep the blade up just in case.

With his right hand, Revan reached downward and grabbed the Sith by the jugular. Clenching the muscles and bones of his hand together into a fist, Revan squeezed. Like he was crushing a lemon with his bare hand, his fingers tore through the bare flesh of the Sith and felt the warm blood oozing out. With all the rotational power of his upper body that he could gather, he yanked back his right hand, tearing out skin, blood, and tissue from the groveling monster on the ground and slammed his left fist down into his temple.

Relaxing his hand and letting the Sith's jugular fall to the ground was almost painful. Revan tossed _Heart of the Guardian_ back to his right hand and flexed it.

A salvo of lasers rang overhead, this time coming from the opposite direction. Revan looked that way and saw his army. They came by the dozens, fully prepared for street combat. Their barrages cut down several Sith men in the open and caused the rest to take cover behind the smoking vehicles, one of which they were still dragging a half-alive man out of.

Revan ducked down as the enemy sloppily returned fire and looked beyond them. There he saw Yuthura directing a flanking squad to rain fire from the roof. A large lead pipe on the edge of the building went all the way to the ground. Yuthura slid down the roof using that and started fighting. The backup he needed had finally come.

He took the lead with the men and charged. He broke down the Sith roadblock barrier and engaged them while the men rushed to aid him. The first waves were trampled instantly and the rifles were now used as blunt instruments. With _Heart of the Guardian_ in his hands, Revan saw no need to stall the fight. The Sith were on their last legs but there were still a few adept warriors around to cause some trouble. And Yuthura was likely to fight them first.

What was once a battle was becoming a massacre. Revan saw one of his men bash an enemy soldier in the nose with the butt of his gun, turn around, blast another, then turn back and bash his face bloody again. Fire was coming from both flanks through the windows in multiple stories and from the rooftops.

Amidst a sea of confusion and exposed heads, a lightsaber hilt flew. It was heading straight for him. Revan reached up his hand and caught it. A cyan blade shot out of _Mantle of the Force_ at the press of the button. Revan grinned as he cut down the next man.

Time had flown. Revan wasn't really sure how long it took to finish off the rest of the hostiles. The air was hot and dry accompanied by a choking smell of death. Smoke rose from the ground where the smashed and blazing vehicles lay. Yuthura ordered Drenton to take his squad and lead them elsewhere. The tactics had worked. They all worked. The Sith were annihilated. _So why do I feel an aching sense of defeat?_

He already knew what it was. He just couldn't figure out why. Somehow his cover was blown. The Sith had come for him and they knew he was alive. Everything was going smoothly until Trek sent Dutch his way upon his own order. Could the Sith have tracked him there? Could Dutch secretly be working for them? Revan never felt any treacherous thoughts from Dutch, and he had definitely tried for them. But this wasn't the first time his feelings betrayed him.

His thoughts went back to Lena. The Sith had taken every precaution to keep him from finding her and it worked. Revan had some kind of bond with Lena. There was no other explanation for why he could feel disturbances in the Force when she was in danger. But after she was taken, he stopped feeling them. And then he couldn't even feel her presence at all when she was standing right in front of him. Had Dutch been made a similar instrument? He certainly had individual thoughts and he certainly acted his own man. Plus he had Trek's vouch. Revan wasn't sure how much weight that carried. Trek wasn't a trusting man by nature but he was once the Grand Sire's man. That Trek and Dutch could have ever been friends given Dutch's mistrust of the Sith wasn't something he really understood.

If he was still a Padawan, his master would have told him to be patient and that answers would present themselves. Now that Revan himself was a master, did they know something he still didn't? Revan doubted it, but it might have been his pride talking. Nothing gnawed at him as much as not knowing the answers to the questions he needed answered.

"We've got a live one!" Revan turned to Yuthura's direction. He didn't think she'd be looking. "Just barely," she said, beckoning him to come hither.

The wounded enemy was a True Sith. Revan recognized him by where he lay. It was the Sith he had knocked off the building and cut the arm off in the process. The force of impact from hitting the road had reopened the cauterized stub and blood oozed slowly. Yuthura hoisted the delirious enemy up and made note of the large droplets dripping from the stub where his forearm should have been. The warrior gave a light groan of pain and Yuthura noticed the attempted swing from the left arm, just timely enough to avoid it.

Revan wasn't sure if it was anger or opportunity when he saw the Sith in pain but ten seconds later, he was on him. He grabbed the Sith by the collarbone. The Sith resisted, but a light shock from two hard fingers into the chest softened him up.

"Try that one more time, I'll skin you alive. How did Zazz find out about me?"

The Sith coughed. "That was a clever move you made, mind tricking our own tank driver. Nothing like using the dark side of the Force to win a battle. You are a natural vessel of destruction."

Despite the violent coughing, the Sith's cracking persisted till Revan dealt him an uppercut into his bladder. "Yes, I am. Now answer my question!"

"Why don't you look to the east?" The Sith spat. "You've already lost this fight Revan. And this fight will be your last." The Sith opened his mouth to laugh again but this time his mouth opened wider. When Revan realized what he was doing it was too late to stop it.

The Sith gagged and choked, small higher pitched sounds escaped from his mouth as he swallowed his tongue. Revan tried reaching into his mouth, but the Sith's head reeled back and he plopped to the ground.

"Yuthura, get me eyes to the East. Is there any activity outside the city?"

"None that we can read. Our signal strength goes all the way…to the Lamborgia Straight." Her eyes widened. "They must've landed a bigger force behind the mountains once we escaped."

And Revan saw the trap, perfectly laid out. The Sith had outsmarted him again. He should have realized what they were doing: the trick to a successful feint is making it big enough and grand enough to make enemies not look for the _real_ attack. The fighting in the streets had been a grueling six hours. The Sith sent the first wave of pods to get them away from the sight and back to the city, where they would be convinced that the real target is the entire rebel base in the city streets and get the rebel's attention focused there so they could land the real invading force. The Sith must have known the rebels were entrenched and would most likely outlast them, but the city force would occupy the city and buy time.

"Head back to the base, refortify, rearm, and get ready for another full attack. Get back in touch with Drenton, tell him what's going on and recall the squad. Alpha Team, with me. Mount the hovercrafts and let's go."

In just one minute, they were off. The ride out of the city, over the neon plains of wild fertile grass towards nature's monolithic towering cliffs was the longest twenty five minutes Revan ever grudgingly endured. The wind blasted the moist air in his face. The small amount of water that landed was slightly sticky. The flat of the grassy plains began to elevate and then dip again. Dunes and molehills stretched for the next two kilometers. Three minutes later the final hill emerged and Revan ordered them to stop. The top of the hill was elevated and the hovercrafts stopped just short of the top. Two kilometers stood between them and the entrance of the Lamborgia Straight.

Revan jumped out of the car and raced up to the top. A light cramp bit at his leg, but he knelt at the top to ease it. "Binoculars," he ordered. When a pair dropped to his hand, he looked at the horizon.

The first glance it was all a blur. There was activity in the straight. Revan could see almost all the way through it. Zooming in, he saw the heads. The Sith were on foot while moving through the pass. He zoomed in and focused the scope.

The sight of them made his heart stop. There were hordes. An armada, a legion, Revan wasn't even sure what to call it. He passed the binoculars and looked into the Force.

His visions were racing. Like a vulture, clawing away at the external flesh to taste the inside, so too did he deal with the mystical resistance he met, and Revan broke through. Through the Force, he saw them. All of their faces – humans and Sith. More Sith than he had ever seen before in one place. They were half the army, slightly integrated too. There was no point in the Sith using vehicles to make back and forth trips schlepping every five or six men through the straight and wasting fuel. They moved as a single unit, slowly through the pass. It was their only obstacle and mandatory to pass through, less they wished to spend a full day getting all the way around them. And their movement was a march. About as disciplined as any army could march in a non-parade situation. Well equipped, well scouted as well, two small patrols stood at the top of the cliff. Their movements through the pass would be uninterrupted.

At the rate at which they were moving, an ambush would be impossible. The Sith had too many adepts, they were too well prepared, the mountain was fortified for their trip through it. And once they'd clear the pass and gather, they'd quicken their pace. In just a few hours, they'd be overrun. And there would be nothing stopping them. It would be nightfall then. The sun was already in the west. The shadow the giant cruiser overhead was creating was no longer where it was before. The rebels survived the attempted onslaught in the city against three hundred and relatively unscathed. Revan thought of Garrisson for a moment. Neither the rebels nor the city would be able to survive this attack. Not an attack that consisted of four thousand strong, almost half of them True Sith. Their power would raze buildings, leech the life out of the innocents. They would tear through the Kraxis rebel bunker like tissue paper and then force the small band of freedom crusaders to watch as they annihilate the entire city. Their showing of strength was an old thing. Revan and Yuthura were both desensitized to it. But this was going to be a massacre. Lamborgia was a city the Sith already controlled. Therefore the Sith were not coming to conquer. They were coming to destroy.

Revan sighed a deep and exasperated sigh. There really was only one solution and it was staring him in the face. They were there for him and unless he acted now, they were going to win. This wasn't the Mandalorian War. There were no spare reserves, no battalion of cavalry to charge and break the lines, no hidden armada waiting to counterattack or political recruitment from the boosted morale of the enemy's onslaught. His second in command was in no position to help and probably didn't even know what the hell was going on. And no one would be more eloquent than Yuthura in their attempts to talk him out of what he was about to do. It's a good thing she wasn't here right now. No man was meant to do what was on his mind.

"Get back to the base. All of you. Now."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Fine?" The driver looked at Revan like his brain fell out. "What do you mean, fine? You're just going to let them take you?"

The fire in Revan's eyes made eye contact with him. "I said, get back to base. Now. That is an order."

The men of the Kraxis Rebellion followed orders as well as any army ought to have soldiers to follow orders but Revan understood the man's hesitations. Better to have them leave now and get chewed out by Yuthura for a three-hour shouting match than have them here to witness what he was about to do. His glare persisted until they complied.

When they were away, Revan took another look at the binoculars. The Sith were still moving. There was no sign that they were quickening their pace, but it would be no more than twenty minutes until they'd start pouring out of the narrow pass and regrouping for a full attack.

Revan switched his kneeling stance to a sitting one and relaxed the tension in his muscles. What little tension and muscle stress in his body faded away with the help of the Force. His energy was coming back to him. As he slowly stood up straight and erect, the cramp in his thigh was gone. His body was at peace.

He brought his legs to the neutral stance, left forward, right behind. His base was stable; fifty-fifty balance in his legs, sixty-forty balance on the balls of his feet.

…And with all his power, he reached out once last time.

His energy went for the mountains. Like a rancor unleashed he let it loose. Like a man wrangling a pair of wild bomas, Revan grabbed at them. His reach wrapped around them but the resistance was expected. Through the strength of nature, the Force was fighting back. His reach continued till he felt the whole titanic structures from base to the mesa at the top. _Come on!_ The mountains rumbled. Small pebbles and rocks fell from the top. Revan's grip tightened. The Force's resistance became even stronger. Every muscle in Revan's body was telling him to stop, that this was madness. _I can do it. I will do it. I WILL!_ The mountains were shaking. Larger chunks of the cliff's edge and rocks were falling now, crushing several helpless soldiers in the Sith army beneath them.

The pain in his body clawed and bit into his mind. His energy was fading. _No! I will not give up. I will NEVER give up._ His mind stood strong and Revan began to pull.

If there was ever a limit as to one's power in the Force, this was it. Revan could feel the resistance hardest that he had ever felt it. Like trying to move a box inside of which a restless krayt dragon bashed against trying to escape. It was nature's last stand. And its target was Revan's physiology. His head was throbbing. His neck muscles ached. He felt like his stomach was eating at its own walls looking for sustenance. And all the while he was rapidly losing feeling in his legs and foundation. His fingers emitting the last remnants of the energy left in him felt like they were about to shatter.

The ground was shaking everywhere. The Sith army was panicked and scattering. Some rushed to escape the way they came. Others attempted to make a break for the exit that was in sight. Most made a futile attempt to climb the cliffs and escape death. Somewhere in the crowd were three Sith leaders attempting to retain order. One was trying to move the convoy of vehicles faster through. The hovercrafts, in their attempts to exit the pass before they were crushed, splattered any and all infantry in their way. But they would not make it in time. Another was leading the climb up the north cliff and pulling out the rock extensions further to make it easier for those behind him.

The mountains were closing in. The northern cliff was moving south. The southern cliff was moving north. The pass was getting narrower and narrower. Giant mounds of dirt and rocks were getting bigger and bigger, swallowing up the men running for their lives. It was working. The resistance was weakening. _One…last…tug. C'mon…MOVE!_

The power of the Force that Revan unleashed had broken away the strength of the mountains at their base. The fight was as much under the surface as it was above it. More rocks fell. A razor sharp chunk of conglomerate smashed through the right fusion thruster engine for one of the hovercraft and the explosion that followed set fire to the other hovercraft struggling to get past it. The ground broke beneath the Sith. Small cracks swept the dirt beneath their feet and men fell through, screaming all the way down. But the cracks closed as the earth was brought together. The men beneath would either run out of air or have their bodies smashed to a pulp from the force of impact. From everywhere inside the narrowing Lamborgia Straight, the Sith were dying.

Revan roared a lion's roar and with his last burst of energy, the rock walls of the mountains crashed together. The ground violently quaked. Rocks tumbled and fell from the top. The two cliffs that were once so distinctive were now joined at the hip and horribly disfigured. Not a single man or adept in the enemy escaped with their life. Blood and messy remains soaked the walls of the interior of the cliff. Air abandoned the last of those still clinging to life inside the suffocating chamber of dirt and rock. The cloud of dust engulfed the entire bottom half of the now double-peaked single mountain.

With his last breath, his legs gave out and he hit the ground. Everything went black.

* * *

After five exhausting minutes of bashing, smashing, tearing, and Force pushing, a single battered and ragged Sith reached the surface. His hands were sticky with blood and splintered with rock. They grabbed the dirt and propelled him forward till he was out of the ground and able to move. He started moving west.

The speed of his walk was reduced to a crawl and occasionally he would stumble and then regain his footing. When he reached the first hill, he found his unconscious prize.

The small emergency communicator on his watch still worked. "This is General Kyryll," he said. "Requesting emergency pickup with a package of extremely vital importance."

The reply came immediately. "Pickup on the way, General."

His transponder signal had been knocked out so all he had was a smoke grenade. He popped it at the top of the hill and waited for the blood red smoke to rise. Kyryll grabbed Revan by the leg and slumped his body over his shoulder. He carried him down the hill where the shuttle rushed to meet him. They boarded the shuttle and left the empty wasteland.

* * *

**End of Part I**

* * *

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_- Gipper 40 & Sarge42  
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